


A Round of Tumult (complete)

by pollybywater



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-18
Updated: 2005-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollybywater/pseuds/pollybywater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim won't let Blair's press conference stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Round of Tumult (complete)

**Author's Note:**

> I have left the original notes/warnings intact in the text below. Please do read the warnings.

  
My prompts: 'Trapped' and 'hearing'. I used those and more, and I meant to do it, too. Heh.  
First warning is, I'm gonna warn for every damn thing I can think of, out of sheer cussedness. You like warnings? Here they are. You don't like them? Scroll on down or move along to the next fic.

This fic contains bad language. I can't stress it enough. There are some strong terms in here that I didn't much care for typing because they're just ugly. I'll tell you what, I have personally been called one of the slurs I used (and on more than one occasion), so I didn't use them lightly. The bad guy is a bad guy and he uses bad language. I warned you! And for god sakes don't presume that I think repeating those words is okay because nothing could be further from the truth. Intolerance is killing people all over the place. Love one another.

Speaking of love, there is love in this fic. There are men in love in this fic. And erections. And sex. And naked men with erections, in love and having sex, plus, naked men talking about being in love and having sex and nobody is an exclusive bottom, or top. Also, there is biting, a brief erotic spanking and just a wee hint of D/s and power exchange (situational, not as a way of life, not that there's anything wrong with that) which you may or may not find noticeable because hey, it's really not overt and it may in fact be less obvious than I think it is, but just in case, you've been warned about that too.

Additionally, the crime in the story was written before the London bombings and includes - yeah, you guessed it - a bombing. So if that's going to be a problem for you, consider yourself warned. I'm from Oklahoma, this plot has much more in common with that disaster.

Most disturbingly of all, there's fanon! Lots and lots of fanon! So, don't say I didn't warn you about that, either! I feel compelled to also inform you, it is **m.u.s.h.y.** in places.

For the first time in a long time I wrote something strictly to suit myself so there's probably a warning in that, too.

So many complain of feeling blocked. My friends, **steps up to the pulpit and cues up the organ music** perhaps you, like me, internalized too much pure shit from the loudly opinionated and lost sight of what drew you into this fandom to begin with, which is _your_ vision of the characters.

Much has been said about how we are _supposed_ to see Jim and Blair. Ignore that. Write what you love. Make yourself happy.

Speaking of happy, I do have my personal kinks (if you missed them, go back and re-read the third chap- uh, I mean paragraph).

And I'll say it again. Because I wrote this fic for my own damn self I invented original characters, gave my favorite assistant director a cameo role, wrote in a few other cameos for favored characters who are not even in the same fandoms **AND** I _**totally** ignored_ series/movie timelines... and while I wouldn't exactly call it a crossover, it kinda is one, sorta. But not really. Well, maybe it is. But the only couple in it is J/B. More or less.

In general, I had myself a good old time. It's _entertainment_. Which explains the sex scene that refused to die. *veg*

Anyways, in many of the AU/futurefic stories I've read, sentinels and guides are publicly acknowledged and accepted to exist. I wonder at what point could that actually happen - and because I am wanting all happy happy joy joy around me it may be that this fic stretches your willing suspension of disbelief. It might even elevate your blood sugar. Be that as it may. To make it worse, I am also perennially cursed with that universal, unbearable urge to 'fix' TSbyBS, as well as a dislike of the idea that empathy would incapacitate a person.

I think that's it. Finally. *g* If this ain't the longest dang warning you ever seen I don't want to know about it.

Yes, I do tend to run on, I know, o.0 What's your rush? Heh.

Truthfully, I coulda wrote more. *g*

Just FYI: the title and the chapter headers are from Wordsworth, Fransein is pronounced Fran-seen, and yes, of course I took artistic license with downtown Cascade.

Polly, a True Believer in the Power of the Blim, which Lo, spreads far and wide amongst the Fen.

  
***

 _~From week to week, from month to month, we lived a round of tumult.~_

  
 _~Who would not give, if so he might, to duty and to truth?~_

As soon as the immediate trauma of the diss-aster was behind them, any remaining discord between the partners was resolved when _the two_ of them worked _together_ to fix what had happened.

Not that the solution had been easy. In fact, there'd been an epic battle the night after Simon had offered Blair a badge.

Blair had considered it and felt compelled to decline, informing Jim that as an admitted fraud, he couldn't accept a position within the PD - and he thought he should leave Cascade anyway, for Jim's protection.

That was not going to happen, Jim informed Blair. He intended to give his own statement to the press, and Blair could either appear with him, or not, but it _would_ happen.

A full two hours into the argument-

(and a domestic disturbance complaint from the neighbors that the Cascade Police Department ignored, which turned out later to be a good thing, despite the reason: the patrolman who took the report from dispatch decided that hey, Ellison was finally letting the fraud get what's coming to him and failed to respond)

-Jim finally convinced Blair that his sense of honor would allow him to do no less, although, as it turned out, he also had ulterior motives.

  
***

"It's not going to happen! It's just not, Jim! It can't! Don't you get it? I _have_ to leave! I have to back my story! And that's that!"

Since Blair was shouting this at him, Jim was pretty sure the entire building knew, if not half the block. He rose from the chair, grabbed his pacing, gesticulating, red-faced partner, and bodily sat him on the sofa, settling over him and holding him tightly.

Blair froze and gasped, momentarily terrified - not of Jim, but of betraying his own responses. Jim only gathered him closer, speaking directly into his ear, tone firm ... although Jim made an effort to speak quietly, which was more than he actually thought Blair deserved, given the blast he'd just gotten to his own hearing.

Blair opened his mouth and Jim put one hand over it, and kissed the side of Blair's head, which had the anticipated result of rendering Blair speechless, anyway.

"Breathe, Chief ... Now, listen to me. _You're_ the one who doesn't get it. I can't let you go. I will _never_ let you go this side of death, and to be honest, I don't think that will be the end of it either. You have to trust me on this. We are going to stay together."

Jim leaned back and took Blair's face in his hands, holding Blair's gaze. Blair's eyes were visibly stunned; wild, wide and dark.

"I love you, Blair. It's time you hear that and believe it, the same way _**I**_ </b> believe you love me. Jesus, Chief. Talk about your grand gestures. You have to respect my right to make one too, okay? Equals in all things, that's how it's gonna be from now on."

Blair's eyes teared up and he flushed as he started to speak. Jim gave him a sharp look.

"I'm not finished yet. I need to tell you this, and it's just as important."

The hands Blair had locked on Jim's upper arms loosened and he gave Jim a sober nod, illustrating his willingness to listen.

Jim sat back, sliding his hands down Blair's arms, up the wrists, and finally taking Blair's hands, which Jim brought to his mouth and kissed in turn. Blair's shuddering breath made him smile. Their proximity was affecting them both; the evidence of Blair's arousal filling his senses.

Jim steeled himself to ignore temptation. He really did want Blair to understand this.

"I've given this a lot of thought. You need to understand I have other reasons to come forward. I read your diss. I know you didn't think I would, but I had to, and I'm glad I did. It's brilliant work, Chief. You have a gift for writing, but I didn't recognize the man you were writing about. That man was a soldier, a warrior, a man of duty and honor."

"But, Jim-"

"Not yet, Chief. Please." Blair subsided with a sigh and Jim went on, trying to decide how to explain. "As a soldier and a cop, you witness the meaning of certain words. Valor. Gallantry. Courage. I believed in those ideals when I joined the Army. Covert Ops, Peru, Oliver ... some of the things we've seen at the department, crooked cops, the conspiracies ... the words were tarnished a bit, but I still try to live by them.

"And the truth is, keeping the senses a secret has felt dishonest to me for a while, but I was too scared to consider any alternative and too angry when the story broke to provide damage control.

"So _you_ had to do it, and you did it with conspicuous gallantry. I'm so proud to know you, Blair Sandburg. I want the whole world to know who you are."

Blair's lower lip trembled slightly. Jim raised their still-joined hands and rubbed his thumb over it, his voice steady and low.

"More than that, coming out as a sentinel and restoring your reputation is something I need to do for **me** , Chief, because I can't look at myself in the mirror otherwise. If I let things stand as they are and do nothing then I'm not the man I want to be."

Blair nodded his head.

"'Your problem is, you really _do_ have a sense of honor'," he paraphrased softly, love and pride and understanding shining in those brilliant eyes.

Remembering where he'd heard that line once, Jim had to grin.

"You're quoting Picard?"

"Hey, whatever works, man."

"No more arguments?"

"Not about this, anyway," Blair said with a small shrug, beginning to smile back, hesitantly, as if he couldn't help himself but couldn't quite believe it, either. "I can't promise to like the idea, but I accept your need to do this, Jim."

"'I hear that'?"

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, you're right. You wouldn't be the man I fell in love with if you let it go. I wish you could, for your sake, but I will support your decision. I really should have known that you-"

Before Blair could be off and running, Jim kissed him, gently, almost chastely.

"Good. I'm glad to have your support. Wendy Hawthorne will be here with a cameraman at eleven AM, so it can go out live on the midday news."

" _ **What?!?**_ </b>"

***

By virtue of it being a slow newsday, the interview was picked up by CNN as Jim and Blair confirmed the truth.

Jim's preparations came as something of a shock to Blair, despite the fact that they'd spent most of the night discussing them before eventually falling asleep on the sofa, waking just soon enough to shower, change, and clean the loft before Jim's plans came to fruition.

Simon Banks and half - because _somebody_ had to remain on duty and everybody couldn't fit into the loft - of Major Crime showed up to stand with them, as did the Chief of Police, Beverly Lopez from the DA's office, Sheila Irwin from IA, and Eli Stoddard from Rainier.

Jim and Blair seated themselves on the sofa, their families behind them; William and Stephen Ellison standing directly at Jim's back, with Naomi Sandburg beside them and squarely behind Blair.

As both parents insisted, they had things they wanted to make right, too.

Jim spoke first and began rather tersely, as always, uncomfortable at being the camera's focus.

"I am a Sentinel," he said, clearly ill at ease until his father rested one hand on his shoulder.

He went on to explain what that meant and relate how his enhanced senses had been with him from birth, adding that there'd been long periods of time when they'd been dormant.

He only briefly touched upon his well-publicized time in Peru, and Wendy had been instructed not to push that subject.

"We know now that having enhanced senses is a genetic variation that is a normal part of human evolution. We know now that extended periods of isolation seem to activate the enhanced senses if the predisposition is there. We know there can be problems controlling the senses in an urban environment. It's impossible without support ... and that's where Blair Sandburg comes in. He has studied sentinels since his teens, receiving his Master's based on their historically documented presence in pre-industrialized societies. He theorized then that sentinels might still exist in the so-called modern world."

Here, Jim unexpectedly paused to look at Blair and grin. Each knew precisely what the other was thinking. _Neanderthal. Throwback. Neo-hippie witch-doctor punk. Joe Friday._ Blair smiled back automatically, stunned when Jim openly grasped his hand and held it in the small space between them.

"Before I go any further, I'd like to publicly thank Blair Sandburg and acknowledge who he is. He is my best friend and the most important person in my life. He is also the greatest man I know. He was willing to give up his life, his doctorate, and his credibility to protect me. In a hundred years, scientists will be citing Blair Sandburg in the study of sentinels, whether he has a doctorate or not."

Blair's eyes started prickling at that point, a situation not aided when Jim nudged his shoulder affectionately his and squeezed his fingers. Clearly embarrassed, Blair blushed hotly.

"Someone once called Blair my Guide," and somehow the title was clear in Jim's level tone. "That's a good word for what he is to me. He's my partner in this sentinel thing. He's a baseline for my senses and he helps me handle them, but that's not all. When I didn't know what was happening to me, he convinced me that I wasn't going insane. He literally saved my life the second time I met him, and I can't count how many times he's saved me since then. He taught me to believe that I'm not a freak and that I _can_ control the sensory input around me. He lectures me, tests me, reassures me, comforts me, feeds me healthy food, makes me laugh, and has done me the very great honor of falling in love with me, though I swear I don't know why. And that is why Blair Sandburg declared himself a fraud two weeks ago. For my sake.

"And the thing is, I love him too damned much to let him do that to himself." Jim reached over and gently turned Blair to face him. Blair's shocked eyes were wide and wet - not unlike Jim's - when their gazes met and held ... and held ... even after Blair's full eyes spilled over.

"You're going to kick my ass for making you cry on TV," Jim murmured, wiping Blair's face dry. His words drew several soft chuckles from the people around them.

"Jim, you- I-"

"Sandburg, are you speechless?"

A beautiful smile spread over Blair's face. To Wendy Hawthorne's genuinely fond amusement, it was an expression echoed by everyone in the room. Even William Ellison and the Chief allowed themselves rather pained grins (and it had to be noted that Sanchez and Irwin looked at each other a little ruefully, as if they should have known all along). Wendy herself grinned with secret glee. This was incredible reality TV, the kind of thing that shifted paradigms, made careers and got cited for years ... and it was _her_ story!

Looking at her cameraman, Jake, she subtly indicated the gallery of supporters. Jake nodded at her with a smile of his own. Oh, yes, he got the shot. And when he got home to his lover of ten years, they were gonna celebrate. He had a feeling that the consequences of this interview were gonna be a whole lot more far-reaching than its participants probably anticipated.

"Geez, talk about your grand gestures ... I do love you," Blair finally managed, his voice husky.

"I know you do, and I thank God for that every day. Till death do us part, Blair," Jim added in a quiet whisper, thinking it too low for the mikes pinned to their collars. It wasn't.

"And after," Blair said just as quietly, as they leaned their foreheads together.

Since neither was the type for a PDA, they drew apart after only a moment, smiling at each other before they straightened to face Wendy and the camera once again.

They still held hands, though, while Jim laid out the next revelation.

"I want more than to set the record straight about Blair. I am not the only sentinel out there. We know of at least one other, and we have no reason to doubt there will be more. When you consider how rarely an individual in modern culture spends any length of time isolated and alone, you can see why we're rare.

" _I'm_ rare," Jim amended grimly. "And rare is frightening. So, Blair and I decided that the only way to admit the facts in a way that would protect us both is by full public disclosure. Let me add that this was my idea. Blair begged me not to do this because he's afraid something will happen to me.

"We are both afraid I will not be safe, not even from our own government. We've already had a few brushes with some agencies that won't be alone in wondering if they can exploit my senses." Jim stared directly into the camera, his head high. "I will no longer hide. You should know it's my intention to continue living and working right here. I am _your_ Sentinel, Cascade. With your help and support, Blair and I can continue to serve and protect you. We're a package deal and we've done a pretty good job so far. Remember the Switchman? Kincaid? Lash? Galileo? Zeller? Again, I repeat, Blair and I have no intention of leaving Cascade, so if we vanish, it won't be by our own free will."

Naomi gasped audibly, and Blair reached up to pat the back of the fingers that were suddenly digging into his shoulder.

"Ma, ease up a bit, will ya?"

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," she whispered, having gone markedly pale as she finally understood what was at stake and what she'd potentially set in motion.

"It's gonna be okay, Naomi," Jim murmured, glancing up at his dad, who took her arm discreetly while she steadied.

The cameraman caught the whole scene.

"Detective, do you anticipate consequences where some of the criminals you've put away are concerned?" Wendy began with the first of the pre-determined questions.

"If I may speak to that?" Beverly asked clearly. At Jim's nod, she identified herself before continuing. "During this last week, my office, with the assistance of independent counsel provided by the governor, as well as representatives from the ACLU, undertook to review the cases that Detective Ellison has investigated since his senses came 'online' during the Switchman bombings. Concerns have been raised that Detective Ellison's use of his sentinel abilities might constitute violations of the rights of the accused. In every case Detective Ellison investigated, we found no violations of due process, nor were there any indications that evidence was illegally obtained. It is the position of the DA's office that Detective Ellison's senses are a normal human variation and therefore not a cause for appeal in and of themselves. Naturally, this office does not discourage such actions. We will, however, stand behind Detective Ellison in every case."

Sheila Irwin stepped up then to say basically the same thing on behalf of Internal Affairs (also speaking for their civilian oversight committee - a new addition since the Aldo/Archer debacle). Wendy asked the Chief of Police if the department as a whole also intended to stand behind Detective Ellison and Blair Sandburg, and was forcefully assured it did.

Then it was Blair's turn.

Hesitant at first, but then with one hand gesturing and an excited light in his eyes, Blair gave a short précis of the historical role of sentinels; covering the examples he'd used with Jim years ago before making comparisons with situations in which Jim had used his senses. He pointed out the number of people who were known to have one or two enhanced senses, and very carefully avoided quantifying either the range of Jim's abilities or the risks of sensory spikes and zone outs.

"Jim is not Superman. He is not abnormal, a mutant, a freak, or anything like that. He is a man with a gift that has been documented to exist in humans for thousands of years, but has gone unrecognized and generally unremembered for over a century. He is not the only sentinel in existence - he's only the first known sentinel in modern times. I believe there will be others. _You_ may know someone who hears voices, sees things no one else can see, complains of their skin burning, unusually strong odors, or food being too spicy. That's another reason why we're coming out like this-"

Somebody off-camera snorted, and Blair waved them off good-naturedly.

"Yeah, yeah. The point is, once Jim convinced me we should go public, I wanted to get that message out, too. I only have one more thing to say. Jim's sentinel abilities are an amazing resource. They help him protect and defend the citizens of Cascade, but with or without them, he's a man who's trying to do his best as a public servant. He's a cop, not a lab rat. He doesn't deserve to be swept up by some covert group and experimented upon. No one deserves that, least of all a decorated soldier who's served his country with honor and distinction."

Blinking at Blair's passionate tone, Wendy redirected effortlessly.

"What should people do who suspect they or someone they know might have enhanced senses?"

Eli took his cue to speak, introducing himself as a member of the Executive Board of the American Anthropological Association - and not, significantly, as a member of the staff at Rainier University. He went on to provide contact information through the AAA and stated, firmly, that it was the ethical responsibility of the AAA to stand behind both Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg, just as it had been Blair Sandburg's responsibility to protect Jim Ellison from the potentially negative impact of factual data gathered in his study. Eli soundly denounced the earlier media debacle as well as the way the situation was handled by 'officials associated with Rainier University', and then went on to praise Blair and Jim for the strength of their convictions.

This segued nicely into Wendy's subsequent questions.

"Blair, will you return to Rainier for your doctorate? It's been suggested you have a case against them for unlawful termination."

"I don't know. We haven't decided."

"Are you pursuing any legal action against the publishing company that prematurely released your dissertation?"

"Yes, I have retained an attorney and I intend to pursue litigation against Berkshire Publishing for their unauthorized release of my intellectual property. Beyond that, I'm not willing to comment."

Wendy gave a quick wrap-up statement, then it was over.

And the next phase of their lives together began.

***

Jim saw the last of their guests out - Simon, of course - and moved toward Blair with intent; Blair could _feel_ it. Throwing up one hand, Blair took a step backwards that halted Jim in his tracks.

"No, Jim, don't leap to conclusions here. It's just- once you touch me, it's gonna be all over with, and I kinda had a different scenario in mind-"

"You had a scenario, Chief? What was it?" Jim smiled; falling in love all over again when Blair flushed and that constant heart took a funny little extra thump before it steadied.

Here he'd believed all that 'my heart leaps for you' stuff was some kind of poetic hyperbole. Damn, wasn't it sweet to be wrong?

"Well, you know, I was going to- I mean, I'd be freshly showered-"

"You had a shower this morning."

"That was a while ago, man, and I wouldn't have on like, my oldest boxers."

"Blair-"

"Jim, do you know how many times you've said my name tonight? I counted them. Eleven. Twelve, counting that one. That's more than in an entire year, you know?"

"Jesus Christ, I love you," Jim said wonderingly, not sure for a moment that he could stand up against the rush of it. "There is no one like you in this world, Blair Sandburg."

"God." Blair's arms were around him in the next second, warm and strong, pulling them together. "You know I'm never letting go now, don't you?"

"Me either, Chief." Jim buried his face in Blair's hair, loosening the band that was restraining it before nuzzling through it to Blair's neck. "You smell good," he said to Blair's responsive shiver, hands coming up to rub Blair's upper arms.

"Man, that can't be true."

"You think because you were sweating it during the interview that it would turn me off? You _can't_ think that. Baby, you live with a sentinel. There's nothing about you that I haven't smelled, that I don't know as part of you. It's all you, Blair. Besides, I was sweating it, too. You gonna hold it against me?"

"I'll hold it against you, all right," Blair said, melting against Jim and leaning freely into his strength. "I didn't know you wanted to be _out_ out, like, out of the closet out."

"I should have asked you first-"

"No. I never want to deny you again."

Touched, Jim wrapped his arms around Blair, one hand on that soft mass of hair, the other around a too-lean waist. He held on tightly, loving the scents he was picking up now. His and Blair's arousal was spiking as their bodies reacted to each other.

"This not eating because you're upset is going to stop tomorrow, Sandburg," Jim grumbled as they clung together.

Blair adored that tone. It said 'I love you' every bit as clearly as the actual words. Ellisonese was a language unto itself, and Blair had learned to translate it.

"Yes, Jim," he said mildly, but sincerely. "It _will_ stop tomorrow, you have my word. I expect to be so happy that I will probably gain twenty pounds in the next six months."

"Twenty pounds isn't going to hurt you, and I have a feeling we're going to get plenty of regular exercise."

Occasional tremors were running through them both. Blair was inhaling Jim's scent with equal enthusiasm, and it was driving Jim crazy.

"Can you smell love?" Blair wondered out of the blue. Jim groaned when a wet tongue came out and tasted his bare throat.

"Oh, yes. Yours and mine," Jim promised, lifting Blair's hair off his neck to press open mouth kisses behind one ear. Blair's knees actually buckled, and Jim took a half-step back.

"Jim, please, take me to bed," Blair begged, aware he was about ten seconds away from dragging Jim down to the floor. Romantic as that sounded, it was a bitch in the afterglow.

"Your scenario takes place in our bed, Blair?" Instead of pulling completely away, Jim eased around behind Blair and turned him towards the stairs, speaking directly into his ear.

"Ye- Yeah, one of them," Blair stammered as Jim brushed against his ass, stroking him boldly with one hand before grabbing onto his hip. He was pulled backwards, where Jim's groin cradled him hungrily. Jim's other hand had migrated to his waist, fingers sliding under his belt.

"You have any about the sofa?" Jim asked politely, moving Blair past it at what Blair considered gratifying speed. Like he'd needed more proof than the hard length that kept bumping up against his ass. And that hand was definitely groping by definition of Cascade's penal code.

"What?" He asked, fighting with himself not to stop right there, unable to keep from pushing back and shimmying his hips deliberately.

"What?" Jim was shaking now, caught between that teasing pressure on his cock and the way the tip of Blair's erection felt, skin so spongy and tender over such hot strength.

Blair's forward momentum ground to a halt as he gave a rough moan, then his hands reached backward to pull Jim closer. It took an effort of will for Jim to shove Blair to the stairs. "Do I have to lead you around by your dick, Sandburg?"

"Is that a trick question?" Blair said, making an effort of his own and grabbing the railing instead of Jim's ass. The idea of a goal in sight motivated him, and he started up with better speed than Jim was prepared for.

Jim's fingers slid around to catch the strong wings of Blair's pelvis. Fascinated, Jim had to stroke the pads of his fingertips over them, provoking a gasp from Blair, who reached the top of the stairs and turned around.

Pulling Jim after him by the shirt, Blair spun them around smoothly, falling with Jim to the bed where they landed side by side.

Jim's breath caught as Blair regarded him seriously.

"When we had the spirit merge, I knew you loved me and I knew it scared you. I understand that. Love hasn't been very kind to you and you didn't trust it."

"I wish-"

Blair put his fingers over Jim's lips.

"It's okay. I had things to learn, too. I didn't know I could be faithful to a person instead of an ideal, or that love could survive bad times." Blair smiled then, that lush mouth curving into a happy smile. "I love you so much. Man, I've dreamed about saying that to you. As far as I'm concerned, everything happened just the way it was supposed to."

"And so will this," Jim said, leaning forward to taste that smile.

Sweet. Blair was so sweet, he thought dimly, licking across Blair's lower lip. Perfect, in fact, with a faint hint of the tea Blair had drunk much, much earlier in the evening. There was a salt-iron tang that indicated Blair must have bit the inside of his lip at some point; also not surprising to Jim, who knew how Blair's nerves sometimes affected him. Delving deeper, Jim drank in Blair's soft exhalation and found his hands in that hair again, filling his palms with it.

Savoring Blair slowly, thoroughly, Jim investigated, thrilling to Blair's instant welcome.

"I need to feel you all over me," he said honestly, murmuring the words against Blair's mouth just to hear a gasp. "Be naked with me."

"I already am," Blair replied just as quietly, drawing away just enough to be able to look into Jim's eyes. Blair's own gaze was filled with love and desire, offering all that he was, just like in Jim's best fantasies.

All for him. His. To have and to hold.

"Thank you," he found himself whispering, hands moving to Blair's collar, methodically undoing button after button. When he'd finished pulling the tails out of Blair's good dress slacks - an action that had earned him an enticing little moan and wiggle - he pushed Blair's shirt off, fingers tracing over the lean muscles in Blair's arms.

Blair tugged off the sleeves, sitting up and pulling off his tee in a lithe motion that Jim found himself admiring. He'd figured Sandburg for a fast mover, in more ways than one, and he loved them all ... adoring Blair even more when his best friend smiled back, such a stunned look of absolute joy glowing in those blue, blue eyes it almost took Jim's breath.

He sat abruptly, stripped off his shirt, and pulled Blair back into his arms, burying his face in Blair's neck. Blair hugged him back, arms over his upper back, one hand sheltering his head and one on his bare shoulder.

It felt like being protected, Jim realized, inarticulate with the rush of emotions he was still trying to identify.

"Blair, I-"

"Jim-"

"I love everything about you. Forever," Jim finished, rolling Blair beneath him, until he was propped on his elbows and gazing down into Blair's eyes. It was all there, everything Blair felt, and Jim could finally see it. He could _sense_ it, the truth of it, the power of it, sinking into his pores, his nose, his skin. "I know you feel the same way about me. I will never doubt it again, you have my solemn word of honor. Do you believe me?"

"I believe you," Blair said, his throat closing and his mouth trembling, even as his hands came around to frame Jim's face. "Forever."

Then Jim was kissing him again, and Blair could taste it, too, that perfect chemistry that made him hunger for more, attracting at some biomolecular level and making him _need_ like nothing he'd ever felt before. He went even harder, an ache that weakened his extremities and intensified when he felt Jim's erection pressing back.

Jim wanted him just as much as he wanted Jim. That sure knowledge felt like the most astonishing gift Blair had ever received. He lost himself in the physical pleasure of Jim's kiss; mouth hot on his and increasingly insistent. God this was great, Blair thought rather dimly as Jim managed to somehow draw them even closer, until they were pressed together full length. Being with Jim was perfect, every bit of it perfect, physically and emotionally. Not just in the reciprocated I-wanna-fuck-you-till-I-die kind of way, but in I-will-protect-you-always and I-love-you-more-than-my-own-life ways that matched his own feelings quite precisely.

Not to mention the if-you-don't-fuck-me-now- **I'll** -die feeling he was currently getting from both of them. Blair groaned, pulling his mouth away to gasp when Jim moved one leg between his thighs and rubbed against him.

"Jim." He writhed back, swamped by a surge of raw need that had him fighting the urge to hump openly. His hands went to Jim's ass and pulled them together ... enjoying every flex of that long desired, long admired territory against his palms; shaking when he felt Jim's cock against him despite their clothes.

The fact that this was _Jim_ \- at _last_ \- was still zapping him every so often with shocked disbelief.

"I can't believe I've finally got my hands on your ass, man," he said in a low murmur, maneuvering Jim's hips into a little wiggle that made them both grunt.

Jim found himself smiling against the tender curve of Blair's throat, amusement forcing his arousal back a notch.

"Worth the wait, Chief?" He wondered, grateful for the distraction. This was going a little too fast, and if he didn't slow down he'd end up shooting in his trousers. Blair felt _that_ good, _they_ felt that good together. Jim could feel Blair's physical reactions as well as he could his own, and knew his hair-trigger was equally shared.

"Worth everything," Blair whispered, a catch in his throat that Jim could hear. Drawing away, Jim looked into that beloved face; reddened lips full and wet, while those pupils were so dilated that the blue was only shallow arcs of deep color. He felt his own eyes sting as Blair's words went through him, feeling driven to meet that honesty.

"I want you inside me, Blair, inside my body like you're inside my heart and my soul and my defenses. I need that from you," Jim said seriously.

Blair flushed, the rush of body heat informing Jim unequivocally that yes, Blair would very much enjoy giving it to him. Still, his guide, his friend, his shaman and his beloved met his eyes with as much assessment as acceptance; like always, willing, able, and anxious to protect him. This was the man who'd thrown away a world for Jim, and Jim was determined to love, honor, and protect Blair in turn.

Jim meant every word he'd said. For so long, Blair had been everything to him _except_ his lover. He wanted that now with a hollow ache that made his gut clench. He _needed_ Blair to fuck him, with that same odd sense of _knowing_ it was supposed to be like that, like the way he knew things that came along with his more mystical sentinel experiences. He didn't like to call anything instinctive, but he had an idea that's exactly what it was ... and for once, it didn't matter.

This was one instinct that didn't frighten him. It felt right.

He let Blair read it all in his face, in his eyes, in the way he relaxed into Blair with confident trust.

"Jim, have you-"

"Only you, Blair."

"Oh, god." Blair closed his eyes, the feelings behind those words sliding right through him and straight to his core. "Only mine," he accepted before turning them over; displaying that supple strength that frequently delighted and surprised Jim.

Jim moaned as Blair settled over him like a blanket, chest hair drifting over his skin with deliberate provocation ... and a very real sense of possessiveness which made Jim feel even needier.

"And I will be only yours, and we will be equals in all things," Blair said evenly, commandingly, very much _voice of the shaman - hear me and obey_.

Jim recognized the tone, his hips twitching helplessly as it fed into his want.

"I'm gonna make you fly," Blair promised, then kissed him; all slick tongue, bite of teeth, and hair teasing his face. Jim would've wailed if he could, it felt that good. As it was, he cried out into Blair's mouth as touch spiked painlessly, each lick and suck and tickle firing along his nerves and going directly to his cock. He felt his balls draw up as Blair's erection dragged over his and he bucked, white light filling his eyes.

"Blair!"

"I'm gonna fuck you so good," Blair crooned, reaching between them to cup Jim's balls, heel of his hand against Jim's shaft. "Come for me now, Jim. I want to watch you."

"Jesus!"

Jim's cock swelled and pulsed under Blair's hand, his back bowing as he gave a harsh, guttural groan. Blair gloried in the agonized ecstasy that contorted Jim's features, feeling deified in the rush of Jim's climax, drawing it out with words and touch.

"Gonna love fucking you, love making you mine, love having you fuck me. Gonna be so good between us..."

"God, Blair," Jim panted, his eyes watering as the last of his spasms raced through him. "Love you-"

"Love you, too, babe," Blair soothed, stroking his back, his arms; nuzzling into his neck and kissing him gently. "Love you body and soul. Gonna have sooo much fun."

Relaxing into the powerful afterglow, Jim sighed into Blair's hair, feeling loose and giddy.

"Now, love?"

"Yes," Blair promised, kissing him one last time before rising to kneel at Jim's side. Hands that shook with a fine tremor went to Jim's waist, opening his trousers, gracefully removing them with his boxers. Blair gifted him with a sly grin. "Socks off or on?"

Jim offered a rather self-satisfied grin of his own, holding up one knee and practically posing, much to Blair's amused appreciation.

"Off," Jim decided, audibly humming when Blair stroked each bared foot in turn, pressing kisses into their elegant arches ... then Blair shifted, lowered his head, and licked Jim clean, unsurprised when Jim's erection began to firm anew.

He meant every word he'd said, after all. He was going to kill Jim with pleasure. He'd been dreaming of ways to do it for a long time.

Playing his mouth over Jim's hardening cock, Blair swirled his tongue around the satin tip and savored the taste of Jim's come ... which suited his palate as well as Jim's mouth did; more proof, like he needed it, that Jim was meant to be his. Jim's moans were like music in his ears, as sweet as Jim's musky flavor, and Blair let out his own contented moan when he took Jim fully in his mouth. Jim filled his throat perfectly.

Dazed, Jim watched Blair suck him, stunned by the sight of that lush mouth circling his shaft, swallowing him down. He'd had dreams of his own concerning Blair's mouth. Nothing compared to the reality; so hot, wet and tight, Blair's limber tongue working the sensitive underside of his cock with skilled enthusiasm.

He whimpered when Blair gradually pulled away, planting a kiss on the head of his cock before backing off the bed.

Standing, Blair shoved his slacks to mid-thigh, cupped one hand around his balls, swirled the fingers of his free hand through Jim's come on his body, and looked at Jim with such heat that Jim found himself undulating into the mattress.

"You look fucking hot like that," Jim rasped, sighing out a gasp when Blair licked his own fingertips. "God, I want you."

Stepping out of his slacks and boxers - which were, Jim indeed noticed, his oldest, most worn and comfortable flannel pair - Blair shinned off his socks and looked to Jim's bedside table.

"Do you have stuff?"

"That massage oil you gave me last Christmas is in the top drawer. It works- I mean, sometimes when I imagined us- I don't have a problem using it."

Blair sucked in a breath, and a fascinated Jim watched his cock twitch.

"Jim, are you saying you-"

"Touched myself, dreaming of you? Hell, yes."

"God." Blair squeezed the base of his cock, rocked by that mental image. "Do you know what that does to me?"

"Yeah, I can see what it does. Get down here and do some more," Jim said huskily, holding out one hand.

Blair groaned, tearing his eyes off Jim to rummage hastily in the indicated drawer, glad when the stoppered glass bottle was easily located. He knelt beside Jim's hip; amused and touched to find the bottle was nearly half empty as he set it beside them.

"I didn't know you-"

"-gave it that much thought?" Jim finished, following Blair's gaze before returning it to that rampant cock. "Nearly every morning for the last five months. I could smell you in the shower, Chief, hear your heart pump and those tiny sounds you'd make when you touched yourself. Why do you think I kept giving you first shower? I'd lie here and listen to you trying so hard to be quiet, stroking myself because I couldn't help wanting you-"

"Jim, babe, stop or I'm gonna-"

"Come all over me, Blair. Mark me with your scent. Let me hear you make some noise, baby."

"Oh, god, Jim!" Then Jim's hand was on his cock, pumping him, once, twice- Blair threw back his head and roared out his orgasm, riding the sensations with spiraling joy. "Good, good, so good!" He swayed, catching himself on Jim's shoulders with a shuddering gasp, hissing when he spotted Jim savoring his own fingers.

"Damn, Jim."

"You taste good," Jim murmured, holding out his hand for Blair to sample, senses humming when that warm tongue slid between his fingers. "I like it almost as much as I like seeing that look on your face and knowing it's because of me. You're sexy as hell, Sandburg."

"Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet," Blair challenged with a hoarse chuckle, pressing his parted lips to Jim's inner wrist and sucking gently before leaning back into Jim's mouth. Blair kissed him thoroughly, expertly, sharing their mingled flavors with lingering delectation ... kissing Jim until Jim was shaking, fully as hard as he'd been earlier.

"Blair, please-"

"Yes. Anything. Everything," Blair promised, mouth moving to Jim's throat and chest. "So damned gorgeous. So damned mine."

Time took on an elastic quality after that, stretching and squeezing to fit whatever Blair was doing to him at any given moment ... his sense of touch alternately off the scale or calming under Blair's crooned instructions. He'd never lost it so completely, never felt so wild and outside of himself - Blair _ravished_ him, overwhelming his nervous system with tender licks and almost-too-sharp nips and strong fingers that explored his body.

Jim felt incredibly free in Blair's hands, with no responsibilities beyond letting himself _feel_. It was a luxury. He'd always internalized some macho need to 'perform' during sex, assuming his skills were on critical display. Even with Laura and her pheromones - even with Alex and his instincts so fucked up - he'd never felt anything like this. His responses were called forth to Blair's seeming whim, Blair tasting and sucking and fondling and gentling until he was blind to everything but the pleasure of being loved like this.

He spent about a nanosecond feeling selfish, then recognized that Blair wanted him this way; absolutely out of his mind. He'd never made sounds like the ones coming out of his mouth now, something that might have embarrassed him if Blair weren't reacting to them so enthusiastically ... kisses becoming impossibly deep, hands assuredly keeping him on the knife edge of too much/not enough.

No one had _ever_ touched him like Blair was touching him. It was like being worshipped, adored, venerated and praised, all at once.

When slick fingers teased over his hole, Jim whined, the pleasure a shocking delight. When he was breached, his eyes flew open to meet Blair's, that deep gaze so full of love and want and pride and admiration that he heard himself gasp. When that finger rubbed over his prostate, Jim pushed into Blair's hand with a long, low groan that Blair caught in his own mouth, warm breath panted out over his lips.

Time didn't seem to start tracking until he realized Blair was talking to him, that voice sliding into his ears like another caress.

"You're perfect, Jim, beautiful. Love doing this to you ... it's all new, isn't it, baby. You didn't know-"

"Wondered," Jim confessed huskily, gasping out a breathy moan when Blair stimulated his gland again. "When I- was in Vice- thought there must be something to it, but, just- God- couldn't see it myself."

Removing his fingers, Blair rolled Jim to his side and spooned in close behind him, mouth behind his ear.

"On a purely selfish level, I'm glad, because I'm going to treasure being your first-"

"Only," Jim managed as his upper leg was bent forward and those agile fingers worked over his perineum once more; until he was pushing back and whining again. "My only. Blair, I need-"

"I know what you need, love. Bear down against me."

Clutching the forearm Blair had locked across his chest, Jim did as he was told, keening while Blair finally entered him, the blunt pressure splitting him apart and turning him into some new creation of light and desire. He'd expected some pain, but was amazed to discover that even the burn felt _good_ , passing too quickly as he was gradually, inexorably filled ... taken ... possessed ... and totally owned.

"Yes!" He said, startling Blair into arching against him, making that sweet penetration complete. Blair froze against his back, hand clasping his hip tightly and holding him still while they both adjusted.

Distantly awed by Blair's iron self-control, Jim tried not to squirm, wanting more with every second that ticked past.

"Blair, please," he panted raggedly, overcome by a wave of primal surrender.

"Sweet sweet man," he thought he heard Blair whisper against his shoulder, but his blood was roaring in his ears and not even sentinel hearing could sift past it.

Then Blair started to move, fingers playing over his nipples, his belly, combing through his pubic hair and weighing his aching balls. By the time his throbbing cock was fisted, he was incoherent with arousal, lost in the exquisite sensations pulsing through him.

Withdrawing slightly, Blair jacked him in time to a smooth thrust, then again, and again. Jim wailed unashamedly when Blair's cock rubbed repeatedly over his prostate, the back and forth motion stealing his sanity.

"Oh! Blair! I can't-"

"Yes, you can, baby. Let go. I'll catch you. Please, Jim," and the strain of holding back was clear in Blair's voice.

It hit Jim like a storm breaking, a lightning strike that turned him inside out in a synesthetic rush. Blinded, he heard colors and tasted music and smelled heat, feeling the wrenching spasms of their shared completion pour through him in a ferocious torrent that went beyond mere pleasure.

He could feel Blair so clearly it was as if their nervous systems had fused together; Blair's muffled shout against his shoulder, teeth closing over his skin, so far inside him Jim knew they would never be parted. Blair, within him, surrounding him, grounding him as he shook and cried out ... so _there_ it was like finding an extra sense he didn't know he had.

"Blair, god," he almost sobbed, not surprised his face was wet with tears.

"Jim, my Jim. Love you so much. So much," Blair gasped, holding him close as they slowly came back to earth.

"I can feel it," Jim whispered. "I still feel _you_ ," he added on a sigh as their bodies gradually parted.

Feeling completely wrecked, Jim tried to remember how to open his eyes while Blair wiped them both down. Blair eventually urged Jim to turn over, away from the wet spot. Resting his head on Blair's chest, Jim gratefully let Blair cuddle them together.

They lay clinging to each other like shipwreck survivors, still quivering with random aftershocks. Blair had almost dozed off when Jim's words brought him wide awake.

"Thank you, Blair."

"Aw, man, no-" _You don't have to thank me._ Jim could practically hear Blair think the words.

"Let me say it, please. Thank you for everything, not just this- although this was a major this," Jim added in a mumble, momentarily distracted by the novelty of Blair's chest hair beneath his cheek. "It's softer than I thought," he said with simple wonder, tugging at it gently. "I like it."

"Uh, was _everything_ about this new to you?"

"I had a- well, a boyfriend in junior high, but we never went beyond a few hand jobs," Jim answered easily, levering up on one elbow so he could look into Blair's eyes. He was quite proud of their rather dazzled glow. "You're experienced."

"Yeah. Sorry." For a moment, regret filled those eyes. Jim didn't ever want to see it there again.

"Baby, don't be sorry. I'm glad one of us knew what he was doing," he said honestly, pleased when Blair's expression cleared.

"I haven't been with a man since I met you," Blair confessed, stroking the side of Jim's face. "No one could hold a candle to you."

"You've wanted me that long?" Now Jim was surprised. Up until fairly recently, he'd never sensed anything from Blair beyond friendship.

"I _wanted_ you the first time I saw you," Blair corrected with a quirky, slightly shy grin. "You're a babe, babe ... but I shoved the idea right out of my head ... mostly. Then like the song says, I fooled around and fell in love."

"How could I not notice?"

"I didn't want you to. I sublimated, repressed, denied it to myself - did everything but kill it completely. I couldn't do that. I never could," he added with that grave sincerity that made Jim come undone every time. "I never worried that you'd have some kind of homophobic reaction, but I did think if you knew it would ruin our friendship. I didn't think you'd ever let yourself- Anyway, hiding it from you became a priority, and you know me, when I'm really focused on an objective-"

"You find a way to accomplish it, regardless." Jim smiled, shaking his head slightly. That kind of behavior was so Blair it was actually reassuring. In fact, he was relieved to know his friend hadn't feared him, and filed away for later the rest of Blair's admission - particularly, the unfinished part.

"When did you know you were in love with me?" He asked instead, curious to know; flashing on a memory of Carolyn asking him the same thing and her disappointment when he couldn't provide the exact circumstances.

At the time, he'd thought it was a stupid question. He was surprised now by how much he wanted to hear Blair's answer, sensing that Blair was faintly embarrassed by the subject.

"I can tell you exactly when I figured it out," Blair said, inviting Jim to share the joke with a wry grin. "About two seconds before I jumped out of that plane over the Almaguas valley. I know I said later that it was about friendship, but I'd already realized it _had_ to be love. I don't jump out of perfectly good airplanes for just anybody."

"Aw, Chief. That long? Jesus." Ignoring Blair's attempt at humor, Jim laid a gentle kiss on that lush mouth. Because he was watching, saw the deeply buried fear in Blair's eyes ... and because he could feel it, he knew the source of that fear. He cradled Blair's head with his hands, and made himself talk out his truths.

"I had a moment, too. And I think you're gonna be surprised when you hear it. When I came out of Starkville and walked off into the night, you followed me. When I couldn't walk another step, you were there. You brought me here - to _our_ home - and you ran me an oatmeal bath because my skin was so messed up. You were so quiet that all I could hear was the sound of your heart beating, and that's all I wanted to hear after hearing- You gave me _exactly_ what I needed and it made me realize _you_ are _all_ I need. For gods sakes, you fixed me chamomile tea! I was sitting down there in the bathtub, sipping that tea, and I realized that not only am I in love with you, but I love every single thing about the man you are."

Jim kissed Blair's forehead and each eyelid in turn, before finishing with a chaste and loving kiss to Blair's wonderful mouth.

"Maybe I failed to make myself clear last night, Chief. You've always exemplified all those words I was talking about. Honor. Courage. Valor. Gallantry. You looked into my eyes and made me believe in them again. That night, I had to accept that if you believed me worthy of such care, maybe I was, and maybe I should just admit to myself that- that-"

"That you aren't incapable of this insanely needy deep romantic scary death-defying kind of love?" Blair finished when he simply ran out of steam, gracing him with a brilliant, understanding smile that virtually beamed happiness. Jim found himself smiling back just as broadly, aware Blair was speaking of his own feelings as much as Jim's.

The joy in those night sky eyes was incredible to see. It hit Jim so hard on so many levels that he struggled for breath to speak.

"Yeah. The epic, eternal love that's not supposed to exist outside bodice-rippers and chick flicks," he confessed huskily to Blair's quiet chuckle and muttered "poetic, man".

"Imagine my surprise when I found out I had that much inside me. It scared the crap out of me, needing you, loving you. I didn't see how I could be that much to you. I didn't trust you to stay- and that was how I failed you the worst. I reacted badly and I've been running scared. I did everything wrong. I hurt you," Jim sobered abruptly, understanding precisely how much given Blair's feelings for him.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he added seriously.

Blair's face softened, eyes clear and warm and absolutely shadow-free.

"I forgive you, if you forgive me. I hurt you, too, and saying I'm sorry doesn't seem like enough to cover it. The diss ... but that was just part of it. You must have died a thousand deaths every time I had a date."

"You haven't- uh- dated since the- the fountain-"

Blair heard the question behind Jim's hesitant words.

"I haven't dated since the spirit merge," he corrected firmly; wanting Jim to understand that _that_ was the defining moment in that otherwise terrible time. Not the fountain, not his murder, not Alex Barnes, not even the events in Sierra Verde.

Now, how to make his lover pay attention to him.

Shoving Jim over, Blair covered him; face to face, skin to skin, practically pushing his words into Jim's head. "In my heart, I would have been unfaithful, because I felt how much you loved me. I don't doubt that. I just didn't want you to-"

"Go here for the wrong reasons?" Jim asked, wrapping his arms around Blair and arching luxuriously. "God, you feel good. I'll even forgive you for putting me in the wet spot. Baby, I'm not here out of guilt or gratitude or because I think I owe you something. Yes, your press conference opened my eyes, but the feelings were already there. I wasted so much time being afraid. Afraid to need you, afraid to lose you, afraid to love you..."

"It's _your_ wet spot ... and you will never lose me. We share one soul, Sentinel." Blair kneeled up, scooted down Jim's thighs and pulled Jim to a sitting position. As soon as Jim was comfortably upright, Blair released him and lifted his own open palms, fingers up and outspread.

With a slightly shaky smile, Jim entwined his fingers with Blair's.

"One soul, Guide."

"What do you fear?"

Jim's smile broadened, and he could feel Blair's radiating delight as it started to soak in that this was real ... palpably strengthened when he shared the same feelings of joy.

"I have no fear."

"Because-" Blair prompted, bringing Jim's hands to his head, pleased when they fisted in his hair. He ran his fingers along Jim's arms and traced over his biceps and deltoids, thanking gods, goddesses, and human evolution; awed by the sheer beauty in a strong man's body...

...and this strong man was his to touch. All his. "If you don't answer me I'm going to forget the question."

"Because I can't lose you," Jim said, nerves catching fire from the possessive lust gleaming in those eyes. He pulled Blair's head back to bare that long throat, biting gently ... at first. "You can't lose me."

"Yes," Blair hissed, head lolling back even further, every bit of him screaming for more. "That's right. Oh. Good, Jim."

"Chief, you have a little kink with the biting?" Jim teased silkily before closing his teeth over Blair's trapezius with a bit more pressure. Blair arched and moaned and rubbed against him like a cat in heat, and Jim hardened at a speed that shouldn't have been possible given his age and previous orgasms.

That Blair was just as hard hadn't escaped him.

"Ah, god, I do now. Harder, you can do it harder."

Jim obliged him, and Blair's writhing whine made Jim flush so intensely he broke out in a sweat, pure animal desire punching his guts. The man who'd taken him with such precision, care and control was now lost to all that, arousing something primitive in Jim's soul.

Firm hands turned Blair over, pulling him to his knees in almost the same instant, then Jim was kneeling behind him, leaning over his back, rigid cock teasing his crease.

"Fuck me," Blair said; a demand, a curse, and an expression of astonishment all at the same time.

  
Jim lifted his upper body to nuzzle in his ear.

"Yes, I will. In a minute, baby. Just want to touch you. So hot like this." Baring Blair's neck, Jim fastened his teeth to the side of Blair's spine and bit down.

Blair cried out and not from pain, squirming against Jim like he'd die without him, thighs sliding apart wantonly as he nudged his ass into Jim's cock.

"Now, now, want you in me while you do that, Jim, please, want you so much, need you now god please just-"

Sounding as desperate as anybody Jim had heard, Blair grabbed the oil he'd stuck under the pillow and dropped it within Jim's reach; quite unintentionally, Jim assumed, as he'd just discovered Blair's nipples. A light touch made his lover shiver, but a firm pinch brought those melting, almost submissive shudders that made Jim wild with want.

Sucking a mark onto the smooth skin on the back of Blair's shoulder, he grabbed Blair's hands and held them when Blair would have touched himself.

"No. Bad Blair. My job."

"Ah, god, shit, I didn't-" Blair was shaking now as Jim held his wrists in one hand, using the other to trace patterns across his skin. Jim alternately stroked his body and pinched him; sharp little stinging nips that made Blair tremble, moan, and wiggle against him.

"You didn't what, baby?" Although Jim knew, suddenly; knew Blair had never lost control during sex like he was losing it now. He could _feel_ Blair's shocked sense of self-discovery as clearly as he could feel Blair's hunger for him. "Didn't know you wanted to be mastered? Didn't know you liked a little taste of pain? Didn't know I could give that to you?"

"Fucking hell!" Blair swore, suddenly fighting Jim's hold. If Jim hadn't been able to sense every nuance of Blair's overloaded reaction, he would have thought he'd gone too far.

Grabbing Blair by the shoulders, he shoved Blair's chest to the mattress and scooped up the oil.

"Be still!" Jim ordered, watching Blair freeze, head on his arms. Fingers moving over that twitching skin, Jim watched Blair try to remain motionless.

"I can almost see it. I can almost see the nerves firing under your skin, see how you want to be handled. I can give you what you need because you're mine, Blair," Jim crooned seductively.

Blair arched under Jim's touch, unable to help himself.

One hand tangled in his hair and yanked, while another landed squarely on his ass, the combination sending fiery sensation through his entire body.

And shit, he _hadn't_ known, hadn't had any idea he'd wanted _this_ , Blair thought incoherently, almost out of his mind with how damned good it felt. Back bowing, he let out a low cry that Jim answered without hesitation, the second smack lighter than the first, but in just the right spot...

"All mine. You look like a wild thing. My wild thing," Jim murmured, tracing the outline of his fingers against Blair's pale flesh. "You're beautiful. Beg me."

"please Jim please Jim please just slick your cock and fuck me now fuck me hard please i can take it i swear."

"You will," Jim promised, almost too aroused to oil himself. Hands hard on Blair's hips, he placed himself at Blair's entrance and slowly, slowly sank inside.

"Jim-" Blair protested, wanting him faster.

"Shh, Chief. Not this time. Won't hurt you. But soon I'm gonna bend you over the back of the sofa and fuck you through to the second floor."

"oh fuck oh fuck please Jim." Blair tried to push back anyway and won himself another sharp smack on the ass that made his inner muscles clench around Jim's length. Jim growled as he bottomed out, and Blair gasped, the thick intrusion making him want to bite and snarl and scream with pleasure.

Then Jim lifted them both, those strong arms and the cock in his ass the only things holding him up. Jim's teeth closed on his neck, and Blair literally howled as the exquisite pain shot clear through him to his balls. Otherwise untouched, he came in a series of violent tremors, convulsing against Jim's grasp, head thrown back and eyes blind.

Jim was blessing the fact that he'd already had two orgasms. It gave him the strength to wait Blair out, until that compact body went limp in his arms.

"Oh, so yours," Blair whispered exhaustedly, feeling owned all the way to his bones.

"Yes, I am," Jim whispered back, gently easing Blair forward to sprawl on the bedspread - geez, they hadn't even gotten between the sheets yet and he wondered if Blair would laugh at him for changing the bedspread later and "god, Blair, stop squirming!"

"But you feel so good in me, big guy," Blair purred - purred! Jim groaned and heaved forward, on the edge of losing it himself.

Blair, damn him, responded with an _I'm full_ grunt that managed to sound utterly content.

"Yeah, Jim, do it now. Show me," he said, arching his back.

"Jesus, Blair!"

That was the last thing Jim said and just about the last thing he remembered before his conscious mind shut down. He reacted on pure instinct; Blair's hips in his hands as he withdrew and stroked in more quickly, finally letting himself _feel_ in a purely tactile sense all the things he'd been fighting to maintain his hold on.

The way Blair's inner walls clung to him and the exquisite squeeze of his opening, the way that hot body welcomed him in and yielded ...

Every bit of his attention focused on the way it felt to _take_ Blair, _his_ Blair, lying down for him at last.

Then touch exploded into a lightning bolt of pure nirvana, making him roar hoarsely as his anxious balls released what little they had left, the perfect physicality in that moment as big a rush as the orgasm itself.

He pounded into Blair one final time and found himself yelling "Mine!" at the top of his lungs, praying for understanding neighbors as his strength gave out and he collapsed. He had just enough presence of mind to make sure he didn't injure his lover with his full weight.

Head landing on the pillow beside Blair's, Jim gazed at Blair and caught his breath. Blair looked absolutely wasted and supernaturally gorgeous; hair an intriguing mess of wild curls, lips swollen and red, and those blue eyes, turned on him with some amazing mix of pride and love and approval swimming in their depths.

Christ, had anybody, ever, in his life looked at him like that?

"I like the way you look at me, Chief."

"I love looking at you," Blair said simply, sighing when Jim slid free of his body. "I admit it. I didn't know I'd love having you inside me so much."

Jim felt the blood drain out of his face at Blair's words.

"You never-"

"I wish I could say I hadn't. I was in - you can't call it a relationship when you're eighteen, especially when it only lasts a few weeks once he finally talks you into- well, no, strike that. Bad form, Blair, no talking about priors. Look, Jim, let's just say it was nothing like this and I didn't exactly enjoy myself. I've topped ever since."

"Chief, I _noticed that_ ," Jim teased, kissing Blair tenderly, wishing he could make up for that past unhappiness. "Is it bad form if I'm happy you like it with me?"

"I'd be upset if you weren't." Blair's face softened as he nuzzled Jim's cheek. "I want you to be happy all the time."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem, baby. Thank you."

"Will you cut that out!" Blair demanded sleepily, his eyelids getting heavy. Jim rolled them to their sides and held him close, thanking his stars, the Fates, and God for this man in his arms who loved him.

It occurred to Jim just before he nodded off that they still hadn't made it _into_ the bed...

 _~I had received so much, that all my thoughts were steeped in feeling~_

"Can I just shoot them?" Jim asked bitterly when a knock on their door roused him from the deepest, most restful sleep he could remember having.

That was before he started to turn over.

He let out an involuntary groan that had Blair practically levitating to a sitting position beside him.

"Oh my god," Blair bit out between his teeth as the reasons for Jim's discomfort became apparent to him as well. "Are you as sore as I am?"

"Worse," Jim said with wince. "I'm older than you are."

"Buzz, wrong answer. You're in better shape than I am."

"I don't know about that, Chief," Jim said, looking Blair over with fond admiration. "You've got muscles I didn't know you had."

"You asshole, I've got muscles _**I**_ </b> didn't know I had," Blair replied, snickering.

Jim laughed with him, fiercely proud of the bright glitter in Blair's eyes. He luxuriated in his partner's happiness, feeling the same way himself. Despite his soreness, this was the best morning he could remember ever having in his life.

Ever.

He decided to tell Blair so, and did, then felt his heart flip over when Blair's lower lip trembled before curving into a beautiful smile.

"It was the best night of my life," Blair murmured, and Jim was pulling him into a kiss when the knocking resumed.

"Goddamnit," he said a scant inch from Blair's mouth. "I forgot somebody was out there."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know, not a threat," Jim shrugged and paid more attention. "It's your mother. I can still shoot her."

"Shit. Don't tempt me, man," Blair said, rolling his eyes. "Guess that makes it my problem, then. Good thing we changed the locks, or she'd be getting an eyeful."

Freeing his legs from the edge of the bedspread Jim had pulled over them in the night, he managed to sit up on the edge of the bed.

"Yow!" He rolled quickly to one hip, looked at Jim and actually blushed. "Uh, okay, plan B. Hand me your cell phone."

Jim levered up on one elbow with a definite grunt and fished it off his bedside table, unplugging it from the charger and giving it to Blair as smoothly as he could manage, considering. Blair dialed a number and Jim heard the ringtone through his front door.

 _"Hello?"_

"Naomi, go away. Go find a diner. Have breakfast. Come back in a couple of hours."

 _"Blair, sweetheart, it's almost noon and I need to talk to you before I leave for the airport."_

"Damn," Jim muttered, finally attaining semi-upright status. He tried sitting straight, bared his teeth, and let out a hiss. "Well, at least I can dial it down," he said to Blair and stuck out his tongue, startling Blair into a bark of laughter.

 _"Blair!"_

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you."

 _"Blair, I won't stay long."_

"Mom, this is not a good time. When is your flight?"

 _"Four."_

"Then you can afford an hour. Have _brunch_. Come back later."

Jim was a little surprised. Blair's tone was final. Apparently, Naomi heard it, too, because she sighed resignedly and ended the call, her feet padding down the hall.

 _"You'd better turn on the TV so you can see the noon news, Jim. Tell Blair I'll call him in a month or two. I think I'll catch an earlier flight."_

"She's leaving, Chief."

"Good."

"No, I mean, she's leaving, leaving. She told me to watch the news and tell you she'll call you, she's catching an earlier flight."

"Oh, hell, what has she done now?" Blair paled dramatically, his heart suddenly racing. Forgetting his own aches and pains, Jim wrapped Blair up in a hug, enjoying the way Blair's morning stubble prickled his skin.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, we'll get through it."

"Promise?" Blair asked roughly, squeezing Jim back.

"Absolutely. No more fear, remember?"

Blair smiled against Jim's chest. He remembered very well, actually. Every moment of yesterday and last night was engraved on his mind.

"Nothing like an adrenalin surge to make you forget how sore your ass is," he mumbled.

"You could have let her in," Jim pointed out, a question in his voice.

"I didn't want to. I- I'm still really angry with her, Jim, and I can't see that changing any time soon."

"I thought you forgave her."

"I told her I did. I lied. She put your life in danger. Part of me will never forgive."

Jim pulled away, not surprised to find that adamantine tone matched the look in Blair's eyes.

"She didn't know that's what she was doing. She's your mom, Chief," he remarked helplessly, a bit taken aback. As far as he knew, Blair had _never_ turned his mother away. It didn't seem right that Blair should do it for _his_ sake, although part of Jim was genuinely thrilled at being put first.

"You're my- you're my lover, and this is- is as close as we can get in this state to our honeymoon," Blair said, plainly picking his words as his eyes softened. "Jim, next time we see her she'll pretend it never happened and so will I ... and maybe it won't make my stomach hurt to look at her, okay?"

"Okay." Jim gave him a cockeyed glance. "So, you'd marry me?"

Admiring Jim's grasp of priorities, Blair allowed a grin.

"I kinda feel like I already have," he admitted.

"Okay," Jim echoed, delighting Blair with the sudden broad smile that graced that handsome face. "But just so you know, I'm not changing my name."

Taking Blair back in his arms, Jim kissed him before pinching that regrettably unadorned pierced left nipple.

"I'll get you a ring, though," he announced, pleased when Blair laughed.

"I'll settle for a shower and something to eat." Blair looked at Jim's alarm clock and sighed. "Watch, or not?"

Jim retrieved his phone from where Blair had dropped it on the bed and speed-dialed a number, holding it between their heads so Blair could easily hear but he could still be heard in the receiver.

 _"Banks."_

"Simon, it's Jim. Blair's with me-"

 _"And where else, my friend? I didn't expect to hear from you."_

Jim listened, then winced.

"You're busy."

 _"You could say that. Hang on."_ Jim could hear him speaking to the people he'd just realized were in the background noise that came along with cell phones - which Jim happened to hate with a passion. It's why, if he could, he always talked Blair into carrying the damned things when they were in the field.

 _"Mister Mayor, Commissioners, Chief ... excuse me for a moment. I have to take this call ... hope this fucking thing doesn't cut out,"_ he muttered under his breath. Jim bit back his grin so Blair wouldn't start laughing and waited patiently. _"Go ahead, Jim, what do you need? Are you and Sandburg all right?"_

Until he heard the anxiety in Simon's voice, Jim hadn't realized how worried his friend was that some black ops group might very well come and sweep him and Blair away. Blair's eyes darkened and Jim knew he could hear that tone, too.

"We're okay, Simon. Jamaica," Blair said, steady-voiced.

 _"Trinidad, Sandburg."_

Jim felt his eyebrows rise.

"You're shitting me. You set up codes with Simon?"

 _"Can you gentlemen discuss that later? I am answering some questions for the city commissioners, in case it escaped your notice."_

It was Blair's turn to wince.

"Simon, do you need us there?" Jim asked reluctantly, assuming there was some shitstorm going on about the interview.

 _"No, you're going to sit back and let me handle this. It's what I do. Now, why did you call?"_

"Above and beyond, man," Blair put in quietly. "It's no big deal - I hope - but Hurricane Naomi stopped by to announce we needed to watch the noon newscast and then she blew on out of town. We wanted you to record it for us but we didn't know you were out of the office. We're sorry."

Blair's voice held a larger apology than Simon apparently felt warranted, because he spoke right up.

 _"None of that, Sandburg. I stand behind my men and you know it. This is just politics. Don't worry about it."_

"Yes, Sir, Captain," Blair replied, hoping he sounded as genuinely respectful as he felt.

Some dynamic had changed between them, in a good way, and Blair couldn't say whether it was Simon's recent brush with death or his own press conference that had prompted it. He only knew he felt more genuine friendship from Simon than he used to, and he had to admit, it was nice.

 _"Joel's in my office. Call up there and get him to do it, although we can get copies from the station if we have to. I'll watch it when I get out of here, another couple of hours."_ Simon sighed. _"I don't see what else is left to come out-"_

Simon caught himself then and let out an almighty guffaw; clearly audible to both Jim and Blair even though he made an effort to cover his own receiver.

Jim flushed, bobbling the phone as his lover fell flat on the bed laughing.

"Oh, God, your face," Blair clapped his hands over his mouth and doubled over even as Simon apologized, amusement plain.

 _"I'm sorry for the noise, Jim. Look, call Joel. I've got to go."_

Jim had no trouble imagining Simon Banks chuckling all the way into the council's chambers.

"Laugh, clown, laugh."

"Aw, man, Simon's right. What's the worst she can do?"

"Damn, Nostradamus, you had to say it, didn't you."

They exchanged a glance and stood as one.

Groaning.

***

Surprisingly, Naomi Sandburg didn't appear alone, but with William Ellison - another exclusive interview for Wendy Hawthorne.

Jim and Blair watched in consternation as their parents' pictures were shown onscreen during the upcoming features blurb for the imminent segment.

"Wendy would have given us a copy," Jim said weakly, his forehead creased. Blair patted him on one bare shoulder - neither had dressed beyond throwing on their boxers - and Jim forced himself to breathe past the slight roll of his stomach.

"Come on, babe. Your dad can handle himself, he'll do fine. God only knows what Naomi will say," Blair added in a grumble, "but Simon's right, there's not a lot they can say that hasn't been said. They can't hurt us."

"You're right." Folding his arms in front of him, Jim took a deep breath and said "I am relaxed. I am relaxed." He cut his eyes towards Blair in time to catch an amused smirk.

Mission accomplished, Jim could relax, now that Blair really had, and he retrieved them both a bottle of cold water from the fridge.

"You really did dial it down, didn't you?" Blair took his water with a frown when Jim returned and sat beside him easily.

"I didn't. It's not that bad, baby. You were very careful ... more than I was," Jim noted ruefully. Blair grabbed his arm and shook him.

"I thought we established that I liked it."

"Over a decade, Chief, I should have-"

Blair put his hand over Jim's mouth.

"If you do anything besides pat yourself on the back for making me come harder than I ever have in my entire life-"

"Ever?"

"Ever ... and to be honest, I kinda like the way it feels today. Like I'm empty, like I need you in me again..."

"Damn it, Blair, if you get me hard then force me to watch my father and your mother it may never happen again."

"Okay, okay! Here." Blair took his bottle of water and set it between Jim's thighs, laughing like a maniac when Jim jumped and swore. "Bet you're glad I left the cap on."

"You'd better be glad," Jim groused without meaning it, too overjoyed at seeing Blair's playful side making a comeback to have cared even had the water spilled. This was a part of Blair's personality he hadn't seen in months, maybe even a year or longer. Seeing it now felt like an extra reward, and he smiled contentedly.

Blair was right. His father and Naomi couldn't hurt them.

***

 _"Mister Ellison, you knew Jim had special abilities when he was a child, didn't you?"_

 _"Yes, I did, and the only thing I knew to do was try to scare him into not using them. I was afraid he'd be treated as a guinea pig of some kind if the authorities learned of his talents."_ William Ellison hesitated before shaking his head slightly, his expression grave. _"I handled it badly, but the mentality of the times suggested I had reason to be afraid."_

 _"From what Sentinel Ellison and Guide Sandburg have said, those fears are not without justification. Do you really feel our government, or perhaps even one hostile to us, would go as far as kidnapping them?"_

Jim looked at Blair and mouthed "'Sentinel Ellison'?" Blair flung out his arms, whacking Jim on the chest, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated "' _Guide_ Sandburg'?"

 _"It's happened before,"_ Naomi put in somberly, diverting them. _"As parents, William and I remain very afraid. For that reason, I've been in contact with a friend in Amnesty International who will be here today to monitor the official reaction to Jim's and Blair's interview."_

"Uh ... wow," Blair blinked. "Amnesty International, huh?"

 _"-feel about your sons' personal relationship? Mister Ellison?"_

"I can't believe she asked your dad that!"

"Shh!"

 _"Jimmy and I were estranged for many years because of my stubborn refusal to accept who he is. I'm very proud of my son. I stand fully behind him, whatever he chooses ... and Blair Sandburg is a fine young man who would make any father proud."_

"Oh my god," Blair breathed, as visibly shocked as Jim felt.

"We _have_ to get a copy of this."

 _"Miz Sandburg? How do you feel about your son's involvement with Sentinel Ellison? I understand that Blair's been injured numerous times during his work with Detective Ellison."_

Naomi's hands fluttered in her lap and settled.

 _"Blair is where he needs to be. How do I feel about it? I feel blessed that my son-"_ she paused for a moment then smiled. _"My **sons** are in love and happy. I am doubly blessed that my meddling in their lives didn't destroy the bond between them."_

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"Let's just say I handled quite a few things badly myself. Blair and Jim are incredible men in spite of our mistakes. They are meant to be together and I accept that."_

 _"I understand you were both single parents in an era when that was still relatively unusual. Mister Ellison, you raised two sons alone-"_

 _"Not alone. I have a wonderful friend, Sally Wong, who's been with me for a long, long time. I couldn't have done it without her."_

"Huh, that's nice," Blair remarked, impressed.

 _"Miz Sandburg?"_

Naomi looked into the camera and set her jaw.

 _"Many good friends helped us along the way, but for the most part, I raised Blair alone until he went to Rainier at sixteen."_

 _"You look like you have something else you want to say."_

 _"I wish my parents knew they missed out on knowing an extraordinary human being when they chose not to acknowledge Blair. I told them then that he was a miracle. He still is."_

 _"It's their loss, Naomi,"_ William said, patting her hand. _"And your mother's loss, too, Jimmy,"_ added so quietly that Jim knew it was a message for him alone.

Wendy said something that wrapped up the segment. Blair wasn't paying attention, too taken aback by his mother's words.

"Is she saying I still have grandparents? Of course she drops a bomb like this and skips town. Damn." Blair scrubbed back his unruly hair with his hands and looked at Jim. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, Chief, I am," Jim said as if he were surprised to find it true. "Are you?"

"You know what, I am, too," Blair replied firmly, hands landing on Jim's knees and sliding up his thighs. "That wasn't so bad. I might have to forgive her after all."

"I know, I'm- ah, kinda shocked about it. Uh..." Jim gave a rather breathy sigh when Blair's fingers slid underneath the loose leg of his boxers and teased over the side of his balls. "What are you-"

"I'm taking these off," Blair said as he urged Jim to stand. Jim felt his eyes cross as Blair started inching his boxers off his ass and down his legs, every bit of skin coming in for a gentle touch. When he felt the boxers land around his ankles, Jim stepped out of them automatically, Blair even caressing his feet.

"Now, we're taking that shower," Blair announced, standing in front of him, blue eyes bright and happy.

Jim shivered as a 'barely-there' palm ghosted over his erection.

"Do I have to lead you around by your dick, Ellison?" Blair said over his shoulder, dropping his own boxers before turning towards the bathroom.

"You could do that," Jim admitted philosophically, deliberately hanging back so he could watch that sweet ass move as they walked. Then Blair bent over the edge of the tub to start the water, and Jim startled them both by growling.

"Are you sure you want the shower first?"

"How about during?" Blair asked, running his wet fingers down Jim's chest.

"That'll work," Jim said.

And it did.

***

Being out - and they were as out as they could possibly be in _every_ respect - turned out to be easier than either Jim or Blair had originally anticipated. Their special circumstances were recognized and accepted with mind-boggling tolerance from almost everybody from the public to within the PD.

Not hiding his senses slowly became more natural, although Jim lost count of the number of times Blair bit his tongue to keep from either snapping at bystanders or obfuscating out of reflex. Not that Blair was practicing disinformation or anything like that, but neither did he tolerate too much interest when Jim was openly doing sentinel things.

It was as if, now that his place was finally acknowledged, he felt free not just to monitor Jim even more closely, but to monitor everybody's behavior around Jim, too.

It was a protective impulse Jim understood completely.

The initial media uproar passed fairly quickly, especially when both men refused to grant further interviews or make any statements that weren't case-related. No grandparents crept out of the woodwork on Blair's side, but they'd gotten hundreds of phone calls, many from people they'd previously helped, who offered to help in return.

One of those callers was Jack Kelso, who promised to keep one ear to the ground for any rumored interest in Jim from intelligence sources.

Blair received his own large assortment of calls and letters from former Rainier-related acquaintances, many so apologetic in tone that Jim had to wonder how badly Blair had been treated by them right after the press conference.

Even Marie Edwards had called with a stiffly-worded expression of regret for the events surrounding Blair's termination from Rainier. Following some wrangling with the university - which boiled down to 'don't sue us and you can defend your dissertation' - Blair submitted his diss and was awarded his doctorate. Berkshire settled for a substantial amount after Blair sued for improper use of his intellectual property, which also had the side benefit of deterring those members of the press who wanted to print excerpts.

Doctor Blair Sandburg arranged to publish an abstract of the diss in American Anthropologist and largely ignored academia beyond that, happily concentrating on his 'real' job; working as a civilian consultant, licensed to carry - having completed firearms training - for the Cascade police department, where he was officially assigned as 'Sentinel Detective' James Ellison's partner and 'Guide'.

Thanks to Wendy Hawthorne, those titles stuck. Jim liked to think Lee Brackett was howling somewhere each time Blair was addressed as Guide Sandburg.

There were other changes.

Beverly Sanchez, backed by the Public Defenders office, suggested that Jim submit quantifiable, pre-admissible proof of the acuity of his senses, so he wouldn't have to do a dog and pony show for each individual trial judge. This somehow ended up going to Olympia for an emergency review by a special session of the state legislature, which requested - with remarkable courtesy - that if the city courts were to be provided physical documentation of what Jim's senses could do as a matter of record, the state courts would like proof, too.

Jim was assured this was entirely voluntary, reminded it was as much for his convenience as anybody's, and given the opportunity to arrange the tests himself with whatever supervisory personnel he wanted.

The idea of examinations stirred up some genuine fear in both men and they talked it over for several days. Eventually, the tests were performed by a small group of physicians (noted experts in their fields, selected by Jim and Blair), with watchdogs provided by Amnesty International (thanks to Naomi) and the governor's office.

Blair could be a little paranoid too, as it turned out, inviting Eli and Simon along as well, the three of them staying with Jim at all times, insuring Jim's safety and comfort during the actual procedures.

Blair also coached Jim against 'topping out' his senses. For the record, they established a baseline at about fifty percent of Jim's best effort, which was what Blair had cited in the dissertation, not incidentally.

Those results were still enough to provoke some ooh-ing and ah-ing, which was something Jim doubted he would ever learn to tolerate, but once done it was worth it. The Washington State Bar Association's judiciary voted unanimously to accept as factual those testimonies related to what Sentinel Detective James Ellison of Cascade saw, heard, felt, smelled, or tasted; provided it fell within the usual constitutional bounds of admissible testimony, of course, and within the documented range of his abilities.

They'd celebrated the night that decision had come down. No more Junos.

On another front, the White House released a statement in which the president promised that no agency in _his_ administration would ever move against either man. It was something Jim and Blair viewed rather cynically, despite their expressed gratitude. Administrations changed, and a lame duck's policies were only as honorable as his successor's.

In the best development of all - in Blair's opinion - two other potential sentinels had been reported to the AAA: hypersensitive children with worried parents who'd already consulted doctor after doctor, ready to grasp for the hope offered in their interview.

These cases were reviewed by an Eli-approved anthropologist with physician oversight provided by Amnesty International, which, having worked so well in Jim's case, was felt by Blair, Jim, and Eli to be a prudent measure. Additionally, it gave a global face to the program, something both Blair and Eli thought preferable for the protection of all concerned.

Blair wrote up a 'basic instructions' manual, which explained, among other things, what to do for skin reactions, allergies, management of sensory input, pain, and his recommendations for sentinel-friendly products. He'd waited to provide information on sensory spikes or zones until the children and family in question had been assessed. Doing it that way had bothered Blair a little, but he consoled himself with the theory that kids probably had better natural control over spikes and their families were there to protect them from zones.

No way would he risk _his_ sentinel's safety by premature dissemination of such sensitive information.

Once the story broke that Jim actually _wasn't_ the only sentinel out there, the media's fascination with Jim himself began to diminish. Within a startlingly short amount of time, Jim's senses became something that were cited only when he was involved in an otherwise newsworthy story...

...and the citizens of Cascade stepped up beyond anything Blair or Jim had dared to dream. The interviews with Wendy - both theirs as well as Naomi's and William's - turned out to be strokes of public relations genius, instantly endearing both men to people at large. Like the rank and file in the PD, most Cascadians were ridiculously proud of their sentinel and guide and about as protective as a pack of wolves.

The public's general level of cooperation with the police was at an all-time high, and any time they were out in the field, Jim and Blair found themselves being treated with a degree of respect that was as pleasant as it was unexpected (particularly from the city's criminal element. Some of them displayed a bewildering amount of pride about being brought down by Jim and Blair).

William Ellison amused the pair by wryly reporting that his and Stephen's status at the country club was at an all-time high ...

Even the dreaded gay-bashing had failed to materialize, beyond a few fundamentalists' sermons and the occasional slur from an angry perp (nothing worse than they'd already heard a few times, anyway).

Within the PD itself, their sexuality was officially ignored, but even those few hardliner homophobes on the force attributed their relationship to a sentinel thing, occasionally verbalizing their pity for Ellison. Jim had interrupted one such conversation to inform them that they should be so lucky, and then he'd walked off whistling.

People tended to avoid harassing Blair because everybody in Major Crime seemed to have sentinel hearing where their doctor of anthropology was concerned. Plus, it was hard to harass somebody who walked around beaming at everybody. H and Rafe had taken to wearing sunglasses inside the bullpen until Simon had roared at them to stop - then the next time he called Jim and Blair into his office, he had on a pair himself.

Blair fell on the floor laughing and promised to tone it down - some - managing, at best, a _Gioconda_ smile.

As the months passed, both Blair and Jim were surprised by how well everything was going.

Reflecting on it later, each decided he really should have known better.

***

As habitually soft-footed as both men were, the sounds of their footsteps seemed to clatter as they walked on the marble floor of the almost empty courthouse. Even to Blair's un-enhanced ears, their steps seemed to echo then echo again. Grasping Jim's upper arm without even thinking, he felt, more than heard, Jim's internal sigh of relief as tense muscles relaxed under his hand.

The noise would have been easier to bear had the long corridors been filled with the crowded bustle of normal business hours. Instead, it reverberated harshly, obliterating the quiet that normally came with a pre-dawn Saturday morning.

Jim gave Blair a look that simultaneously thanked him and agreed with him. Blair kept his mouth shut, unwilling to make it worse.

There were times when his voice grounded Jim and there were times when anything extra was just too much for his sentinel's hearing. Blair had at last determined where that line was drawn.

But then, everything in their lives had gotten easier since they'd become lovers.

Blair grinned as he remembered their first time. It was a memory that crossed his mind on regular occasions and one that never failed to put him in a good mood, having been everything Blair had always imagined it could be when he'd let himself wonder.

Jim pulled Blair onto the empty elevator and turned them face to face, smiling down into those shining eyes.

"You're doing it again," he murmured fondly just to watch Blair's cheeks flush. "Chief, you are _gone_ on me."

"Yes I am."

Jim laughed.

"It's a good memory," Blair informed him. "It was the second best night of my life."

"What's the first?"

"Last night. I didn't know it could just get better and better. Great bonus, huh," Blair said complacently, eyes soft with remembered pleasure.

Jim felt himself blush, but he smiled broadly as he hit the button for their floor.

"Yeah, it is," he said, leaning in for a quick kiss as the doors closed.

Jim Ellison still marveled at being this ... full of joy. Every day he woke up in a good mood, his emotions as balanced and content as his senses. Next to the gift of Blair's love, this was Jim's 'best part'; simply being glad to be alive, delighted just because Blair was happy.

That the sex was mind-bending _was_ a bonus, he agreed.

Leaving the elevator, they walked towards Judge Fransein's office. The Labor Day weekend was now officially in progress, and late the previous night, Henri and Rafe had worked up enough evidence for a warrant in one of their cases. Beverly Sanchez had eventually found a judge willing to sign off on an order, but only if Major Crime was willing to send someone to pick it up at the judge's convenience, since the ancillary staff was already gone.

Planning an early start to the weekend themselves, Jim and Blair had volunteered to retrieve the paperwork and drop it off at Major Crime on their way to their favorite camping spot.

On the eighth floor, a tired-eyed sheriff's deputy greeted them casually. She gave no indication that she'd ever heard of them, even after inspecting their ID to confirm they were the same two men who'd signed in downstairs.

"Morning, guys, the judge is in her chambers, right that way," she pointed, waiting until Jim passed by before giving Blair a nod and a thumbs-up that made Blair grin.

"I heard that," Jim muttered as he rapped lightly on the door.

"Judge Fransein?"

"Jim, Blair, good morning. Come in. How does it feel to be up before the chickens?" The judge waved them inside, absently gesturing at the chairs in front of her cluttered desk.

"About as good as you make it sound, Your Honor," Jim grinned at the silver-haired woman who was peering at them over her glasses. Dressed in jeans and a neat cotton shirt, Delores Fransein was short, skinny, and admittedly "older than the Ten Commandments". She'd been on the bench in Cascade for almost thirty-five years and was a fixture within the community. There wasn't a cop on the force who didn't appreciate her down-to-earth personality, as well as the fact that her late husband had been a Washington State Trooper.

"Pshaw! Youth today! Have some coffee, will ya, while I try to remember where I set those papers," the wiry little woman insisted, her voice still betraying Texas roots.

"Thank you. We appreciate your willingness to come in and sign them today," Blair said, refilling the judge's cup while he served Jim and himself.

"Well, that's sweet, Blair. I guess that means you've forgiven me for making you get up so early."

"Jim probably has," Blair pronounced solemnly, rewarded when Judge Fransein snickered at him.

"Sorry, boys, but Delores is on her way to the lake for the holiday weekend ... with six great-grandkids. Sucks to be me, don't it?" They laughed with her while she thumbed through stacks of paper. "You know, I think I may have left them in the courtroom. Let's go see." She fished a large keychain out of a drawer and led them out, passing the reception desk where the deputy was dutifully checking in with the sheriff's office downstairs to report the judge's movements.

"You need help, Judge?" The deputy asked politely.

"Naw, Renee, just sit there and practice that bored look," the judge snarked back good-naturedly as she unlocked the other door. "We'll be done before you go off shift, girl, so quit your worrying."

"Yes, Ma'am," Renee said with a tolerant grin that Jim and Blair returned before following the judge into her courtroom.

"Here they are," Judge Fransein said, stepping up behind the bench.

Behind her, Blair grabbed Jim's arm, his attention drawn to the long windows along the back of the courtroom, where the dawn sun was peeking through.

"Something's wrong," he whispered urgently. "Jim?"

"I don't- wait-"

A muffled concussion rattled the windows. Jim grabbed Blair and jumped with him behind the bench, pulling Fransein down to join them just as a second, louder, explosion detonated. This one shattered every pane of exterior glass in an imploded rain of shards that managed to mostly miss them.

"What the- Jim, you okay?"

"Fine, Chief. Judge?"

"Oh, I ain't had this much fun since the last time I was in Fort Worth," Judge Fransein said wryly from her position between both men. "Is it over?" she asked just before the door burst open.

The deputy's frantic shout was lost in a seemingly endless series of blasts. Each one louder than the first, they shook the entire building in a giant's fist. The ceiling began to fall in, the huge wooden desk teetered, and the exterior wall peeled off in a massive wave of noise while the floor bucked and rolled beneath them, tossing them in helpless sprawls.

Trying, and failing, to gain any footing, Jim heard the deputy die when debris smashed her skull. Blair shouted something- a curse? and rolled to cover the judge. Jim threw himself in their direction, bracing the bench as much as he was able, hoping to keep it from crushing them all as they sheltered behind it.

The initial roar eventually subsided, but the sounds of falling debris persisted as the floor stilled, accompanied by broad, tinkling washes of dust and grit that had them all coughing harshly for some moments.

Jim and Blair slowly realized they were clutching each other and huddling over Judge Fransein, who, being a wise woman, was lying face down with her arms covering her head.

"What the hell?" She asked hoarsely, pushing them off her with little ceremony.

By some incredible stroke of chance, none of them were badly hurt. Blair had a quarter-sized lump on his forehead and a small laceration over one eye that he swiped at impatiently, smearing dirt and blood over half his face.

Jim's fingers hurt - more than one nail was broken off at the quick; a throbbing discomfort that went all the way up both arms. He'd also managed to do something to his right knee, which was swelling painfully beneath his jeans. The judge wasn't visibly injured. They were all covered with bits of sheetrock and cement dust.

"Are you all right?" He asked, petting Blair's cheek gently before he helped the judge sit. Delores levered herself up between them and eyed them both; plainly assuring herself they were both okay before turning back toward Jim.

"I think Blair mashed a couple of my ribs when he covered me-"

"Sorry, Judge."

"-but other than that, I'm fine. I've had worse, and thank you, Blair," she said, patting the younger man's back. "What about Renee, Jim?"

"She didn't make it, Judge. I'm sorry."

"Damn. I'm sorry, too. She was a friend of mine. I married her and her young man about a month ago." The judge closed her eyes and took a careful breath, letting it out slowly while Jim and Blair exchanged pained glances. "Well, we've got more things to worry about than poor Renee. Can we get out of here?"

"I'll have to look," Jim said, shaking his head as he stood unsteadily, a bit dizzy. His head was pounding miserably from the sheer ear-shredding volume of the blasts. Blair rose beside him, grounding him while he inspected the wrecked surroundings.

The door they'd come through was blocked by a large pile of debris covering the deputy's body. When Jim looked up, he could see through to the next floor, and through _its_ ceiling to the sky.

The air gradually cleared, aided by a light breeze that gusted in through the hole where the exterior wall had once been.

Carefully picking a path around the bench, Jim looked out and down, biting off an expletive that Blair echoed with a shocked gasp.

The federal office building across the plaza was a tower of rubble, a heavy plume of smoke and dust rising above it. The plaza itself had collapsed into a crater that had once been underground parking. Jim thought it probable that the explosives had been set below street level, near the foundations of both buildings and in the garage itself.

If only he'd parked in the garage, he might have sensed-

"You're limping."

"Wrenched my knee, Chief. No big deal."

"You think the station's okay?"

"I can't tell from this side, Chief, but it's over a block away. Some glass damage, maybe, unless-" Refusing to give voice to his fear that Central might have been rigged to blow, as well, Jim tore his gaze off the devastation and looked around for the public entrance to the courtroom.

He and Blair made their way to it cautiously, watching their steps. The glass panel in the door was also shattered; the view into the lobby blocked by the same debris that littered the courtroom itself - chunks of marble flooring, huge pieces of cement-laden rebar, and twisted, jagged chunks of lumber.

"Shit." Blair's whisper was almost inaudible. "We're stuck, aren't we."

"Looks that way, babe."

They exchanged a level stare that said everything they each needed to hear, startled out of it by the sounds of oncoming sirens. Turning back, they flanked a visibly shaken Delores Fransein, who was peering outside with an unbearably sad look on her face.

"I prayed there would never be another Oklahoma City," she said softly.

"At least it isn't nine o'clock on a weekday morning," Blair murmured in reply, guiltily remembering he'd been wishing for just that only a short time earlier. "Maybe the death toll won't be as bad."

"It'll be bad enough. The sheriff's department is housed on this side. I doubt..." The judge shook herself and straightened to her full five feet. "We need to let somebody know we're in here so they can get us out. You gentlemen have work to do."

Jim started looking for his cell phone, which had been hooked to his belt earlier. He found it on the floor behind the bench, case cracked but still functional.

Speed-dialing Simon out of habit, he wasn't surprised when it went directly to voice mail. Simon would have been at home, and was probably on his way even now to the scene with somebody filling him in.

Sighing, Jim left a brief message and dialed Major Crime next, relieved when Joel Taggart answered the phone.

"Joel, it's Jim-"

 _"Jim! Thank God! Is Blair all right? Rafe said you were going by the courthouse this morning-"_

"We're there now. Blair and Judge Fransein are with me, in her courtroom on the eighth floor. We're not hurt but we aren't going to be able to get out without some help. We do have a fatality with us, a Deputy Renee-"

"-Halstead," Delores Fransein supplied to Jim's quick questioning look. "Her husband's name is Merl Halstead. He's an ER doc over at Cascade Gen. He'll be on duty right now. Someone needs to let him know," she added in a subdued voice.

Blair took her arm, leading her back behind her bench, where he righted her overturned chair and helped her sit. He didn't like how pale the older woman suddenly looked.

"Jim will ask someone to take care of it, Your Honor."

Automatically relaying the information to Joel, Jim watched as Blair comforted the judge, frowning when he noticed Blair was just as pale.

 _"I'll let Search and Rescue know where you are,"_ Joel was saying when another thought occurred to Jim.

"Joel, there may be more explosives in the basement of this building. If they meant to bring it down too they may have just had some kind of timing glitch. Whatever they used ... I can smell C4 ... it had to be in the basement level and in the garage judging from what I'm seeing."

 _"We'll get on it. Can you tell if there are more survivors, Jim?"_ Joel asked with audible reluctance. He knew what he was asking the sentinel to do.

"I haven't tried to listen, Joel," Jim admitted honestly. "My ears are ringing pretty badly. Hang on." He turned to Blair, who was already back beside him.

"You know what he wants."

"Yeah. You need to clear your mind for a minute, first. Let your hearing level out. One more minute isn't gonna make a difference, and I need you to have a good grip on it in case there are any more loud noises." Blair plucked the phone out of Jim's hand and Jim sighed with fond resignation. "Did you hear that, Joel?

 _"Yeah, Blair. Would it help if dispatch had everybody turn off their sirens?"_

"It would help, but we don't want to delay Search and Rescue. Maybe just within a one block radius of the blast? By the time they're that close they're gonna be on the fringes anyway."

 _"Shit,"_ Joel whispered. _"Sorry, Blair. I heard it was big, but I didn't realize-"_

"It's all right, man. We're all still a little stunned here, too."

 _"Blair, doesn't Judge Fransein's courtroom face the federal building?"_ Joel asked with sudden apprehension.

"Joel, man, you know us, what do you think? Here, talk to Judge Fransein. Jim needs me."

Handing over the phone with no further debate, Blair took Jim's hands and led him as close as possible to the inside wall, turning their backs on what Blair found a truly creepy view. The fact that a full third of the room was wide open to the sky was bad enough, but that wasn't what was really bothering him.

Blair felt this huge ball of despair in his gut and could easily tell it wasn't all his own. He'd hated this feeling as a teen; this sense of pain that practically touched him through the air any time some kind of disaster happened.

For a long time, he'd tried to tell himself he was imagining things, then he'd learned to sublimate the feelings as much as possible. He'd never managed to completely get rid of his odd sensitivity, probably because he was sure he wasn't meant to. Humans were supposed to feel for each other, with or without proximity or relationship, he believed.

For all his rationalizations, control mechanisms, and coping skills, though, sometimes the ... empathy ... was rough to handle. When the Oklahoma bombing had occurred, he'd been literally sick to his stomach with grief for several days.

This episode was particularly bad, however, because he _did_ have proximity and relationship. People Blair worked with - people in their _tribe_ \- had just died. People he'd just spoken with in the sheriff's office and elsewhere, too. He'd become acquainted with many of the attorneys and legal aides, both on the state side of the plaza and the federal. Just because it was early Saturday morning was no reason to assume the rest of the two buildings and the parking garage were deserted.

Look at their presence.

If that wasn't bad enough, there'd been even more to it this time. He'd caught a flash of something just before the first explosion, and it was that brief sensation that had made him alert Jim. Thinking about it now, he isolated the emotions he'd sensed. Something dark. _Malevolence._ Something bitter. _Satisfaction._ Something gleeful, spiteful. _Mean. Hungry. Vindictive._.

And then Deputy- _Renee, married only a month_ -had died not ten feet away, while he was dealing with his own terror for Jim's life, as well as his own. He'd _felt_ the soul suddenly ripped from the body, the sharp sense of loss, the crying out for loved ones in those first shocked seconds ... then he'd felt that sensation multiply beyond what he could bear to measure.

He badly needed a minute, too.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked, leaning his forehead into Blair's. Blair stared into those worried blue eyes, allowing himself soak up the wonderful strength of Jim's love and support, then took a deep, cleansing breath. He was gratified when Jim did the same.

"Gonna be," he promised, cuing his breathing pattern to Jim's and then gradually bringing them both down to a slower rate. "Hold me?"

"You got it," Jim said, suiting words to actions and wrapping his arms around Blair firmly. Jim loved that Blair didn't hesitate to ask for what he needed. They'd been working on that, both of them.

"That's better," he agreed, closing his eyes so he could center his hearing on Blair. That beloved heartbeat was still a little rapid, but slowing as their respirations synchronized.

Jim let the regular sound soak into him, sighing faintly when the ringing in his ears began to subside, his headache easing with it. Blair stepped even closer and laid his head on Jim's shoulder, gently rubbing the back of Jim's neck.

He relaxed into his partner's arms.

"Thank you, Jim. I don't think I say thank you often enough," Blair remarked softly.

"Blair, don't make this sound like some kind of deathbed confession," Jim said a little louder than he should have, startled when Blair started chuckling.

"No, man, we're gonna be fine."

"What tipped you off?" Jim whispered. "You- I didn't-" Whatever it had been hadn't been something _he_ could identify sense-wise, and Jim wondered how Blair had known.

"Yeah. You remember how you told me once that just before the barometric pressure starts to fall, it's like the air holds its breath and you can tell it's about to happen even when it happens really fast, right? This was kinda like that. Bad air. I just knew something bad was going to happen- was _about_ to happen. I could feel it coming. I can't explain it-"

"You just did, Blair. I don't need the hows, I need the whys."

"That's deep, Jim," Blair said after a moment, and they found themselves snickering helplessly. "No, that should be like a detective's motto or something."

"Shut up."

Jim understood the laughter and heartily hoped Judge Fransein did, still grinning when he and Blair slowly separated. He started to move closer to the open side of the room, but Blair stopped him.

"You can hear just fine wherever you are, Jim, trust me. And since I don't need to be over there you can stay with me over here."

"Gotcha, Chief."

"Okay. No, don't close your eyes. Look at me. This is gonna be rough for you. Gonna hear some tough things."

"I just hope I hear somebody alive, Blair."

"I know, babe. I hope so, too. Let's try. Filter out the immediate noise then move on. I know the helicopters are loud-"

"They're backing off. Sirens are stopping."

"Go Joel. That's _so_ cool. Now, I want you to do some passive hearing. Don't go looking for it, let it come to you. Floor above us?"

"No heartbeats, Chief, or on the roof. Moving down."

"Let yourself drift through it, big guy. Sink like fog. Seventh floor?"

"Nothing. Nothing on six, either but-" he stared into Blair's beautiful eyes. "I hear two people on five, fifteen feet east of the back wall. Strong heartbeats, not too fast, like they're okay."

"That's great, Jim!"

Jim took a deep breath and started paying attention again, vaguely aware that Delores was passing the information on to Joel, with her guess that the survivors were in the law library the district court maintained on the fifth floor.

"Nothing on four." Jim's face contorted, and Blair squeezed his hands tightly. "Someone on three is calling for help. He's either alone, or everybody around him is-"

"Okay, okay, we'll tell Joel."

"They're not going to get there fast enough."

"Oh, no."

Blair closed his eyes, and the hairs on Jim's arms rose as he felt the compassion Blair radiated ... a palpable effort, warm and kind. Then he heard that lonely heartbeat stutter and stop.

"Go in peace, brother."

"He's gone, Blair."

"I know. Let's regroup for a second, can we?"

"Whatever you need."

Blair leaned into him for a moment and took a couple of breaths. Another one. Not so harsh this time - less shock but more pure sorrow. Maybe it made a difference when the mind had a chance to understand what was happening to the body and the soul didn't feel cast out.

Blair wondered for a moment if that was the real reason he hated hospitals and he just hadn't recognized- then he pushed it all away and centered himself.

"Ready."

"Footsteps on two, more than one person. I'm not sure how many. They're in the southwest stairwell, moving down, lotta echoes. I can hear talking. 'A little bit farther now, Haile'. 'We're gonna make it, Izzy'." Jim squinted, concentrating fiercely, and felt Blair squeeze his forearms in warning.

"That's Isidore Fusco, he runs the cafeteria on two, and Haile Egzhabier, he's the head cook." Delores murmured, continuing a running commentary into the phone. Jim could hear Joel Taggart passing the information along via radio to search and rescue, and briefly wondered just how many people were listening to this.

"Relax. Let it come to you. Anybody else on the ground floor?"

"Heartbeat ten feet west of the rear entrance. Rapid but okay."

"Okay, Jim, that's great. What about the south door?"

"The door we came through," Jim said lowly, thinking of the two good-natured deputies who'd been manning that entrance - the only one open on off-hours. They'd spotted Jim and Blair and instantly started teasing.

 _"Yo, look, it's the Lone Ranger and Tonto! Hey, Sandburg, which one you wanna be, dude?"_

 _"Silver,"_ Blair had said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Jim had thumped him gently on the back of the head, prompting a howl of laughter from one deputy and an exaggerated _"Man, I did NOT need to know that!"_ from the other ... but neither had looked anything but honestly amused.

Good guys. Damn it all.

"Relax, Jim. Deep breath. Let that go. Fog sinking into the cracks, man."

"It's hard, there's so much ambient noise- wait, somebody just started yelling. Chief, it's one of the deputies from the south door. I recognize his voice. He's saying 'Yo, Sentinel Ellison, I'm stuck in the john and the lights went out'. Now he's saying 'Uh-oh, that kinda sounded like a come-on, didn't it'. He's laughing."

"That sounds like Jeff Mancuso," Delores noted audibly before reporting the survivor's location into the phone. Despite the circumstances, she was appreciative of the chance to witness the way sentinel and guide worked together. She was well aware she was watching something few people had ever seen. "That boy's a card."

A cell phone started ringing in the judge's chamber and Jim flinched.

"Too loud."

"That's probably my kids," Delores said ruefully. Jim heard Joel assure the judge that he'd have somebody contact her family and keep them informed.

"Take a breath, man. You're pushing too hard," Blair said while they waited for the phone to stop ringing.

"I have to push, if I'm going to scan the garage and the federal building," Jim said, speaking too softly for anyone but Blair to hear. "You know that's gonna be outside the parameters we set up."

"I know. We'll blame it on adrenalin or something."

"I don't want to zone."

"You won't."

"I need to be able to see to give possible locations."

Blair swallowed, recognizing that tone too well to argue.

"Okay, Jim. Whatever you need. Not from the very edge, though."

"No, babe, not the edge, I promise. Just over here." Jim led Blair to what was now the center of the room. It was enough for him to peer down and out. After thinking about it, Jim pushed Blair behind him.

"Hold onto my arm."

"I need to see your face."

"You can watch me from back there. You've done it before."

"Don't remind me," Blair groused, thinking of Brackett and that damned mined bridge. He clasped Jim's upper arm as he buried his face between Jim's shoulders. "All right. Let's do it."

In the end, Jim didn't zone, but it was still every bit as rough as he and Blair expected it to be. Too many long, continuous minutes of aggressive listening later, the sentinel had determined there were very few additional audible survivors: two on the north edge of the parking garage and one, incredibly, under the rubble of the federal building itself, near the rear. There was no way for him to determine how many were dead from where they were. It was a number Jim still feared would be higher than that of the living.

"I think they're done, Simon," Delores was saying as Blair dragged him back towards the illusory comfort of the wall. Jim idly wondered when Joel and Simon had switched places, then Delores was standing beside him and handing him the phone.

"Delores, thanks for your help," Blair told her sincerely. "It saved time not having to repeat everything."

"It was an honor, Blair, and I mean that."

"Simon? Yeah, we're all right, honest. He's where? No, that's a good idea, I understand. We'll take precautions. I'll call you back." Jim put the phone on his belt and took Blair's hand unselfconsciously. "Taggart and the bomb squad are moving in first to look for additional explosives. They have to check before search and rescue comes in. We need to do what we can to shelter ourselves, just in case."

"Ain't nothing wrong with the hidey-hole we had," Delores said philosophically, pushing her chair aside and taking a seat between her bench and the wall. "This spot worked pretty well last time."

"Yes, Ma'am," Blair said as he and Jim joined her.

"Blair, there's a fridge there behind that cabinet door - if you can get it open - with some bottled water in it and there oughta be an ice pack in the freezer." She reached into her back pocket and handed Blair a clean handkerchief. "Damn shame I don't have anything stronger than water. You wash your face, now, and put that ice on Jim's knee. Might even be some aspirin in that drawer. And here, stick this damn warrant in your pocket. If this son of a bitch thinks he's gonna stop justice in this town, he better think again."

"Yes, Ma'am," Blair repeated, exchanging a wry smile with Jim as they settled down to wait.

***

It was almost anticlimactic when search and rescue got to their floor a couple of hours later; Jim following their progress with periodic scans. Simon had called earlier to report there _had_ been four additional explosive devices found - three in the lowest basement sublevel of the courthouse, and one in what was left of the parking garage. They were all carefully defused and sent to Central, but Joel felt Jim's guess was definitely plausible. Judging from what he could see, there _had_ been a timing glitch; the initial blasts skewing the mechanisms.

Central and the surrounding city government buildings had been searched as well, and were deemed clean.

"Everybody else out?" Jim asked tersely as soon as a helmeted head appeared through a pried-open door.

"You're the last in this building, sir." The fireman's white teeth gleamed with satisfaction against his grimy brown skin. "Sorry it took so long, but it took some time to clear the stairwell. We're getting in heavy equipment to free the survivors in the parking garage and the federal building, but thanks to you, we know where they are. If you'll follow me."

"Delores, can you make it down seven flights?" Blair asked the judge, aware of how uncomfortable Jim was with that kind of open gratitude.

"Boy, you better hope you're in the shape I am at this age," she told him, but readily accepted the help he and Jim offered.

Given their assorted aches and pains, it was a long trip to the ground. It wasn't made any easier for Jim by what he heard: scattered patches of activity that indicated retrieval of the dead.

They were met just outside the door by Art Kelly, commander of Cascade Fire Department's search and rescue division. A stereotypical Irishman with a head of silvering red hair, ruddy features, and bright blue eyes, Kelly used his considerable size to push forward through a small knot of rescue workers and police. Simon was right behind him, anxiously checking them over and visibly relieved to see them.

"Sentinel Ellison, thank you. Your information helped a lot. Guide Sandburg," Kelly said. Taken aback, as he always was by that form of address, Blair merely blinked while the man pumped their hands briskly. "Are any of you injured? Judge Fransein?"

"Art, ain't nothing wrong with me a shot of Jack wouldn't fix."

"Jack Daniels! Woman, bite your tongue! Bushmill's, that's what ya need," Kelly scolded as he carefully steered the judge towards waiting paramedics.

This left Jim and Blair with Simon clutching them gently, much to their mutual surprise.

"Thank God you're both all right. I was so- Well. You can imagine," Simon said lowly, unashamed. Both Jim and Blair sighed, frankly comforted by that sincere hug. "How did you- well, never mind, there's time for that later. The mayor's office got a call- of course, it went to voice mail," the wry tone gave them the strength to separate.

"Holiday weekend," Blair said with an honest grin that Simon returned gratefully.

"Yes, Sandburg, thank you for pointing that out." The words might have sounded harsh, but there was nothing but warmth in Simon's stern tone. "You'll appreciate this. A male voice representing himself as 'an American son of a great patriot' claimed responsibility for the bombs. He went on to say, and I quote, that he didn't want anybody to 'give credit to those stupid sand-niggers'."

Blair and Jim both grimaced, Blair looking faintly nauseated.

"That's not all he said, is it," Jim said, frowning at Simon.

"No, but we should discuss that at the station. It's only a matter of time before his statement gets released to the media, and there's more you should know."

"I've got to give the area one more sweep before I leave, Simon," Jim protested quietly, backed up by Blair's nod.

"Okay, Jim. Hey, Kelly!" Simon's bellow startled them about as much as his next words. "Ellison wants to do another sweep. Can we get your guys to be quiet for a few minutes?"

"Sure thing, Banks!" Kelly shouted back from where he stood beside Judge Fransein, issuing orders before the echo died.

"Come on around this way. We've got a perimeter set up with the CFD that's keeping the media and public about a block back. I hope it's far enough."

"Ask them, too," Blair suggested slowly. "Ask them to be quiet."

He had a feeling he knew where else the terrorist's statement was going to go. Having been so badly burned by public opinion, he was realist enough to want said public and particularly the media on their side first.

Additionally, he'd given a lot of thought toward imagining what an acknowledged modern sentinel could do with his tribe's willing assistance, and the tribe needed to know how it worked in order to assist.

Simon picked up his own radio and doubtfully forwarded the request, then had to grin when Sandburg patted Jim's arm and said, "Watch your hearing during the PA, big guy." Sure enough, Simon could soon hear the broadcast radio request coming from the officers at the perimeter, even as Jim nodded understanding.

Blair leaned closer to Simon, hand still on Jim's arm.

"He did this for a reason, didn't he. Two reasons. 'Son of a patriot' - which one of Kincaid's little band of merry men fathered him? And he directed it towards us, too, didn't he. Jim and me, both."

"Goddamnit, Sandburg, what are you, psychic? Yeah. That's exactly what he did, but he included the entire department. Believe me when I tell you, he's not particularly fond of diversity. And according to the Feds-"

They rounded the side of the courthouse. The sight ahead brought them all to an unbidden stop.

"Jesus," Jim muttered, barely hearing Blair's whispered "Oh, my god." It looked a lot worse at ground level, the destruction seeming incredibly complete.

Jim became aware the perimeter noise was subsiding, overhearing more than one reporter earnestly announce that _'Sentinel Ellison has asked for a few minutes of silence so that he can listen for more survivors'._

"Let's do this," he ordered, limping ahead with Blair at his heels.

"Jim, you sure you're all right?" Simon asked and Jim waved him off.

"Just a sprained knee."

"Don't forget the integrity of what's under our feet," Blair put in quietly as they drew nearer the edge of the plaza's blast crater.

"No kidding," Jim said, motioning them rather abruptly to step towards the left. "Simon, stay here. Blair-"

"Don't go there, sentinel."

"I was going to say, stay close, guide," Jim sniffed indignantly, pleased when Blair ducked his head and grinned.

"Yes, sir."

They moved forward slowly, the ambient noise level dropping with remarkable speed. Jim could hear a few mutters and whispers, and more than one "Shh!" from the crowd, which made him shake his head in disbelief.

He would never in his wildest dreams have conceived that a crowd could quiet so, although similar behavior from the Chopec would have been a matter of course.

Listening as they walked, Jim cranked up his hearing once more, dividing his attention between monitoring for unstable footing and searching for heartbeats below it. They rounded the north edge of the crumbled cement pit, where a small squadron of rescue workers had paused to watch them.

It was as if the whole world held its breath.

Blair merely stood by, hand on Jim's arm squeezing lightly as he watched his sentinel's head tilt characteristically.

"They're still alive, two of them, right here," he murmured, pointing a few feet away. "They know help is out here. The one in the rear of the federal building is still alive, too." They walked a few steps past the silent squad of rescuers as something caught Jim's attention. "Blair, there's someone else-"

"Yeah, Jim, I feel it," Blair whispered almost inaudibly. "Pain. He's hurt and he's really ... angry, Jim. Like, hating angry."

Jim turned and nodded, pinning down the spot several yards away. He focused past the other noises in the ground as he listened hard, relegating for future discussion Blair's sudden weird sensitivity to emotions. For now, he concentrated on what the words implied.

"Running water. It must have masked his heartbeat before," he noted as he motioned to the squad leader.

"There's a survivor about ten feet below the base of the north fountain, Lieutenant. I can hear water flowing somewhere near him-"

"According to the blueprints, there's a maintenance shaft right there for the fountain's plumbing, sir. We'll work on getting him out as soon as you've finished with recon."

Jim looked into the fireman's face, a small part of his brain still marveling at the way he was being treated even while he continued assessing the area.

"We have reason to suspect this individual may be connected to what's happened here. He's barely conscious, definitely injured, but have police backup before you try to get him out. The officers will need to stay with him at all times. Watch yourselves. This guy may be armed."

"Will do, thanks, Sentinel Ellison."

Jim nodded, taking Blair's arm and leading him around the rubble of the former federal building.

"That still sounds fucking weird, Sandburg," he said shortly as he paused to listen again.

Blair held his tongue. He found it rather satisfying, actually, when Jim was openly addressed or referred to as 'Sentinel' Ellison. Every time Blair heard it, he got a nice, warm glow; one that soothed the lingering ache of having denied who and what Jim was at his own press conference ...

... and right now, Blair needed all the warm feelings he could get. He felt cold to the bone with shock, dismay, and loss. Even though he was aware that everything he felt wasn't coming _from_ him - or Jim, for that matter - what he did sense was lodging in his heart and being amplified by his own emotions.

Jim squeezed his shoulder then, and Blair let that strong grip comfort him.

As quickly as possible, they finished up their circuit of the area, neither sensing any additional survivors. Returning to Simon's side, Jim gave him the go-ahead for the rescue work to resume; then the three of them started back towards the rear of the courthouse, where the de facto command center had been established.

And Jim found himself in a quandary, shooting Blair a sharp look as he began to explain the presence of the most recently-discovered victim. How much should he say- _should_ he say anything? -about Blair's ... what should he call it? Empathy? Like that babe on Star Trek, the counselor?

"They need a couple of uniforms there when they pull the guy out. We think- I think he might be a suspect-"

"Jim, how the hell could you tell that? Don't tell me you overheard him confessing-"

"No," Blair said, pulling Simon to a halt and staring up at him warily. "It wasn't Jim. It was me. I guess you could classify it as some kind of psychic pheno- No, just call it a shaman thing, Simon. You don't have to believe me, you can just file it in your 'stuff I don't want to know' folder and ignore it, as long as we get somebody on the suspect who can protect CFD's guys as well as the suspect himself because I doubt if he had buddies they're gonna want to risk him talking."

Those blue eyes were entirely too sincere as they stared up, riveting Simon's attention despite the battered face, the hair that was busily escaping restraint, and the hands that were punctuating the voluble non-explanation.

Simon gave his consultant a resigned grin.

"My days of ignoring stuff are long gone, Blair, as you well know, but you can give me the details later. I don't need to know why you're suspicious. It's enough that you are." Carefully overlooking Blair's touched surprise, Simon picked up his radio and issued the relevant instructions, recommending the canvassing officers make a note of all the vehicles in the area in case one belonged to a potential suspect.

"Vehicles..." Reminded, Jim looked for his truck, parked across the street from the south door of the courthouse. It sat covered in a layer of debris; the windshield shattered; body pitted with dents, and the headlights busted out. "Well, crap."

"Damn," Blair said, following his gaze. It didn't take sentinel sight to see the amount of damage to Jim's 'sweetheart'. "Sorry, man."

Jim gave Simon a wry shrug.

"Guess we're riding with you, Captain," he said lightly, smile fading as he looked behind them. "I should be able to localize the bodies by the end of the day."

"Jim, Search and Rescue has dogs for that. You and Sandburg will be needed in the investigation ... but the paramedics are going to check you out before we do anything," Simon said, frowning when Jim almost stumbled.

Blair caught Jim's arm and nodded.

"Good idea, Captain, thanks."

"We'll see if you're still thanking me after they clean that cut on your head and bandage it up, Sandburg," Simon remarked repressively as they neared the command post at last.

"Don't I get any say in this?" Jim asked, not surprised when both Blair and Simon answered "No."

Unfortunately, they were met at the back of the ambulance by a tall thin man in a blood-streaked lab coat that bore the name 'Doctor Halstead' on the chest. As soon as he spotted Jim and Blair, he lunged towards them, swinging. A paramedic grabbed him from behind and he started shouting.

"Why didn't you know sooner! Why didn't you save Renee? What good are all those super senses if you can't- couldn't-"

"You shut your mouth, Merl Halstead!"

Pre-empting a growling Blair Sandburg, Delores Fransein got in front of Halstead before anyone could stop her. She held Blair back with one hand and grabbed Halstead's arm by the other, shaking Halstead roughly.

"Renee was in another room. She might have been fine if she'd stayed where she was, but she did what she was supposed to - what she was trained to do! She was coming after me, to protect me! You got no right to take that away from her by blaming Detective Ellison. He tried to help her, but everything happened too fast and she just didn't make it.

"What Renee did was heroic, Merl," Delores added firmly. "I know that ain't no consolation- Believe me, I know." Her voice reminded them all that the late Harry Fransein had been killed in the line of duty. "You blame the bastards that set these bombs, not these men. They were also protecting me."

Anguished brown eyes ran over in tears before Halstead scrubbed his face with his hands.

"You're right, Dee. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Detective Ellison. It's just- she was my wife."

"I understand," Jim said wearily. The fact that he could have as easily lost Blair was beginning to sink in, and he swayed a little in reaction.

"Jim?"

"Let's get you looked at," Simon said with a repressive glare at Halstead. Fransein tugged Halstead away, yelling at Art Kelly to find somebody who could drive them home.

Blair watched Jim rub his forehead tiredly. He took Jim's arm and urged his sentinel inside the ambulance, maneuvering him until Jim was sitting on the edge of the gurney.

"Let 'em put an ace bandage on your knee and we'll head for the station," he said quietly, shooting the accompanying paramedic a speaking glance.

"Blair-"

"It's okay, man. It's gonna be okay. How 'bout Judge Fransein, huh? She's a tiger."

"He was right. I should have-"

"He was fucking well _not_ right," Blair said crossly, pushing at Jim until Jim was lying flat on the stretcher with his jeans off, not too sure how Blair accomplished it. "You're not Superman. Get over yourself and be thankful we lived."

"Yes, Sir," Jim conceded with a faint grin, allowing the amused paramedic to prod at his knee. It was agreed the knee probably was strained. Jim was instructed to get it X-rayed soon to be sure he hadn't cracked the patella, then the knee was wrapped firmly, a cold pack applied, and Jim was ordered - by Sandburg - to just lie there, center himself, and leave that leg elevated while Blair himself was checked out.

"You're the tiger, Chief."

"No, man, I'm the wolf, remember?" Blair asked in a gentle tease, holding Jim's hand when the paramedic worked on him.

They'd been very, very lucky, and they knew it.

***

Back at the station, they were greeted with such a degree of anxious concern that both Jim and Blair found it humbling. Sensing the need for some light relief, Blair pulled the folded warrant out of his jeans pocket and smacked it on Henri Brown's chest.

"Here's your damn warrant, H."

"Hairboy! You da man!" Henri crowed, pausing to pat his welcome on both their shoulders.

"Yeah, glad you didn't waste the trip," Rafe said with a pleased-to-see-you grin that belied his roughly teasing words. "Megan's on her way in-" she'd been out of town "-and Captain, Joel and Captain Tracy are waiting for you in your office. They have prelim on the trigger device."

"Thanks, Rafe. Sandburg, Ellison, my office."

And just that quickly, life seemed normal again. It was a thankful Jim and Blair who followed Simon out of the bullpen.

Following Joel's heartfelt welcome, they sat down to business.

They'd only ever met Captain Tracy in passing. This would be the first case they'd worked together, and Blair hoped he was a friendly guy.

Kareem Tracy had been promoted into Joel's former position as captain of the bomb squad, and the bomb squad, already the best run unit in the department next to Major Crime, hadn't deteriorated a bit since Joel's reassignment.

Tracy had transferred in from Memphis, following the unanimous agreement of the entire Cascade bomb squad. Joel had met him and come away impressed, believing the man was ready for command.

And the Cascade PD had captains who could do the job. It was becoming a tradition that Kareem Tracy was determined to uphold, given the examples before him.

Offering a pleased grin at Ellison and Sandburg, Tracy didn't waste any time in pushing a bagged piece of electronics in their direction.

"This timer was removed from an ED we recovered from a janitors' closet in the basement of the courthouse. Four devices were recovered intact, all hidden in plain sight as boxes of toilet paper. All the timers are identical and non-manufactured."

Blair lifted his eyebrows. That meant they were handmade by their suspects. It wasn't something just anybody could do.

"The actual timing mechanism is a prime example of skill and stupidity," Joel said, taking up the narrative as Jim turned the device over, a bit nauseated to realize he was holding what could have been the means of his and Blair's deaths. "The perp had good execution but poor design. The trigger mech was too sensitive. Judging from the blast pattern, they didn't go off simultaneously-"

"No, they didn't," Jim confirmed, recalling the series of explosions.

"Evidence indicates the EDs exploded prematurely, probably as they were being placed." Tracy pointed at a blank LED panel on the explosive device's powerless timer. "They were set to go off Tuesday morning at 9:02 AM."

"Jesus," Jim muttered, rubbing one hand over his face.

Blair shifted to put his head in his hands, eyes closed. Had the devices exploded together when they were meant to, the death toll would have been horrific.

Tracy shook his head, commiserating with their shock. "Yeah. The components themselves are mass-produced and fairly inexpensive. The FBI has already started to run down sources of manufacture and have sent the other three devices to their labs."

"A number of federal agencies are involved in the investigation, but the FBI has lead and will liase. I've been promised there will be full cooperation between the Cascade PD and the Bureau," Simon noted for Jim and Blair, his gaze serious. "'We can't afford an interagency war over this' was the story I was shoved, but I got the impression they're very interested in working with you, Jim."

"Shit," Blair groaned, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. Jim squeezed the back of his neck and shook him gently.

"Come on, Chief. Ease up on the paranoia, okay? So, they're curious. We expected them to be, remember? I think we're a little too high profile after this morning to be disappeared right now." He turned to Simon. "What else did the caller say?"

Joel sighed and looked at them steadily.

"I wish you didn't have to hear it. It's ugly."

"We need to know," Jim insisted quietly as Blair straightened and forced himself to relax.

"Yeah, you do, but Joe Blow is right," Tracy said, even while Simon was readying a playback. "This guy is whack."

Leaning over towards Blair, Tracy patted him on the arm, drawing Blair's and Jim's eyes automatically.

He looked at Blair intently.

"Sandburg, you spun that right where it needed to go this morning with the press. I gotta give you your props."

"Listen here, Tracy-" Simon started to splutter. Blair held up one hand while Jim hid a grin, sensing Blair's reaction. Blair knew Tracy was actually being sincere and was secretly delighted, because Tracy _got it_ , got what he'd done and why he did it.

"Thanks, man. Let me guess, you minored in psychology, too," Blair remarked with a faint smile, pleased when Jim and Joel exchanged amused glances and recognized the friendly tease.

"Naw, man, communications. Psychology was for wusses. I majored in law. Eight years of school while I was doing shift work was kinda rough, but you know-" Tracy shrugged elaborately, rubbing his hand across the back of his head in a yes-I- _am_ -all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips gesture.

"Masters?" Blair asked, playing along.

"Well, you know, I passed the bar," Tracy drawled casually, briefly glancing up at the ceiling before looking back at Blair.

They regarded each other stonily, lips twitching on both sides.

Blair finally spoke with a stalwart attempt at solemnity, occasionally pausing to swallow a snicker.

He would have been surprised to know how glad his friends were to see the dancing humor in his eyes; proof that he was really all right.

"Doctor of Anthropology, minors in psychology, sociology, and, uh- music theory," Blair said, then rubbed his nails on his chest, giving Tracy a big grin. "Not _too_ wussy."

"Man, look at you cheesin'," Tracy scoffed, and they both started laughing.

Jim, Simon, and Joel joined in when Blair looked at them, held his arms out in an exaggerated shrug, and said "Hey, I spent a long fucking time at Rainier!"

"Don't take me there, Sandburg. Daryl's a freshman, remember."

"Captain, Daryl already knows where he's going with his degree," Blair pointed out with a fond grin for Simon that he turned on Joel. "'Joe Blow'? Is that like, bomb squad humor, man?"

"Ask 'Kaboom' here about it later," Taggart said with a chuckle.

"Time to do this, gentlemen," Simon brought them back on track after a minute, indicating the recorder. They all felt better for the few moments of levity.

The tape hissed for a moment, then they listened to a flat, faintly nasal, generic Midwestern voice began to speak. Calm at first, the man's tone escalated, calmed, and then escalated again in a cycle that was clearly symptomatic of instability or evangelism.

" _To the city of Cascade, the state of Washington, the United States of America, and the world. I, like my brothers in arms, am an American son of a great patriot. My father had a dream that this country could return to its pure white Christian roots, putting behind it the weak-minded theories that have resulted in emancipation, miscegenation and political correctness. For daring to act on this dream, my father was imprisoned, trapped with this nation's worst scum, where he's been forced to endure numerous indignities._

 _"But my father's dream has not died! You have been warned, America, weighed and found wanting. We are visiting God's own wrath by striking a blow against the agents of this United States of Tyranny! The Sons of the Patriots are taking back this country one federal building at a time, so don't try giving credit for our actions to those stupid sand-niggers! We intend to rid this country of perversion and filth, like those fucking coloreds and nigger-loving mutants and Jew faggots you've got working for you in the police department right here in good old Cascade!_

 _"This is only the beginning, people! In time we will send this message across the entire nation and rejuvenate our land of the free with the spirit upon which it was founded, a safe haven where God-fearing white men will rule over the lesser races, where women will cease to behave like harlots and remember their place, and where the deviants among us are put to death like the animals they are._

 _"Then, by Almighty God, we will teach this world to tremble at our feet!"_

"Good grief," Blair said after the recording switched off. "He's worse than Kincaid."

"They're definitely related. I can hear it in the tonal pressures and phrasing he used. I'd need to hear the original tape of the call to be sure, but my guess is that was a pre-recorded message," Jim said slowly, concentrating on his memory of the sounds and oblivious to his companions' impressed expressions.

"Did we know Kincaid had a son?" Blair asked after a moment.

"No," Simon answered, "we didn't, but the FBI did. According to them, when Kincaid was twenty-five, he molested a thirteen year old girl and got her pregnant. He spent a year imprisoned in Oklahoma for statutory rape. Following his release, he took up residency with mother and baby, which he maintained for the next ten years - until mother saw one of his buddies commit a murder and reported it. Too bad she couldn't finger Kincaid himself, but it got her and her son placed into witness protection. The feds won't roll over on the mother, especially now, but they've been a little more forthcoming with the son."

He handed Jim a file, which Jim placed between him and Blair before opening. A skinny young man with a buzz cut and an arrogant sneer glared at them from a picture, wearing the dress uniform of a fresh-from-basic Army recruit. The tag on his chest said Jackson.

"When he turned eighteen, which would have been soon after Kincaid's attempted Sports Arena takeover, Gary John Jackson dropped out of his protected life, reassumed his birth name and surfaced in Oklahoma, where he enlisted with the United States Army. He was dishonorably discharged shortly after basic for conduct unbecoming. The FBI lost track of him shortly afterwards but they report he shares his father's ideology on race and religion."

"But not his name," Blair muttered at the floor, thinking how horrible it was that Kincaid had managed to ruin so many lives by passing down his twisted beliefs.

"Jackson was on an FBI watch list of potential domestic terrorists and they suspected he might attempt to reunite the remaining Sunrise Patriots," Joel added grimly. "They have no idea where he is now. He's supposed to be some kind of electronics genius, by the way."

"Then you think this guy is legit? The guy that called is this guy?" Tracy tapped the photograph as a trio of suits appeared in the bullpen, obviously heading their way.

"I'm saying that the caller has voice patterns that identify him as a member of Garrett Kincaid's family. We should look for Gary Jackson as a person of interest," Jim said to their nods. "How soon does S and R anticipate having all the survivors out, and do the feds know about the one we suspect?"

"The FBI knows that _every_ survivor has police escort assigned by my order. They don't have enough field agents in place yet to augment that."

"I'll need to see him as soon as they get to him. If I can connect him to the explosives, by scent or physical evidence-"

"Got it. Joel?"

"I'm on it, Simon," Joel said, opening Simon's office door just as one of the agents started to knock.

"You've got Taggart doing it too," Simon groused to Jim, who shared a grin with Blair that faded slowly as the feds came in. They looked at him briefly, then at Blair, visible curiosity in their eyes.

There was nothing more sinister, Jim noted with some surprise.

"Ookay. Have we used Huey, Dewey, and Louie yet this year? Or wait, I know! Larry, Moe, and Curly! Can't go wrong with the Three Stooges," Blair's ultra-soft whisper was rewarded when Jim's lips twitched. "Or there's also Larry, Daryl, and his other brother Daryl. It's sort of a modern classic-"

"Captain Banks, Captain Tracy," the man in the lead spoke first. He was plainly the special agent in charge and just as plainly well-informed. Neither was he the agent who usually ran the FBI's Cascade field office - currently buried in rubble - which for far too long had been one of those 'Siberia' postings that only malcontents and agents trying to persist until retirement age had managed to procure.

This man was different. They all saw it; rising automatically. Jim caught a quick glance from Blair that he read as 'keep an open mind, man'.

Fully as tall as Simon and Jim; the man was _impressive_ , bearing himself with true command presence. Strong-featured and balding, he was clearly no average agent. Dressed impeccably in Hugo Boss, he had intense dark eyes behind a pair of wire rims; radiating competence and confidence.

"I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner from DC. These are special agents Axel Foley and John Doggett from my division. We happened to be in the area so the Director asked us to assist you."

The gracious courtesy wasn't lost on the men from Cascade.

"AD Skinner." Both captains shook hands with the big man first, reaching past him to shake the other agents' hands as well. Those two couldn't have been more different. Also tall, almost lanky, one was black and one was white, one was sharply dressed while one just looked - comfortable - and one had a face that was made for smiling, while the other looked just a bit hangdog.

Blair had had a girlfriend once try to explain to him the attraction in a battered, world-weary countenance. He hadn't quite gotten it until now. He looked at Jim and lifted one eyebrow. Jim gave him a tiny shrug.

The black agent was looking around with a broad grin, from Banks, to Tracy, then at Blair and Jim.

"I like this! Cascade is integrated!" He leaned towards them and whispered conspiratorially. "Last black captain I had wanted to kick my ass all the time. Finally sent me to the LAPD just to get rid of me. That was before Quantico. Is _he_ that bad?"

Blair desperately straightened his face and finally nodded reluctantly, not before cutting his eyes towards Simon to make sure he wasn't being watched.

"Aw, man, I knew it. It's like Clash of the Titans," the agent said and shuddered dramatically.

"You aren't suffering under AD Skinner, are you?" The white agent leaned over and murmured to his partner with a faintly teasing grin. He offered his hand to both Jim and Blair; the black agent doing the same.

Jim and Blair were pleased to accept, sensing these were good guys.

"John Doggett, formerly of the NYPD," the white agent said. " _He's_ Axel Foley."

"Damn, everybody says it like that."

Rather bemused, Jim and Blair could appreciate that these definitely weren't the kind of agents they were used to meeting.

"Jim Ellison." "Blair Sandburg."

"We know. You're why we're here," AD Skinner said, also shaking Jim's and Blair's hands firmly. Blair went pale, and Jim stiffened. Dangerously.

"Whoa, whoa, no, not like that. No conspiracy, we ain't here to take you away. Chill," Foley said, and did Jim the honor of stepping back and holding up his hands. "Way to be diplomatic, Boss."

"Agent Foley." Skinner peered over his wirerims at the younger agent, one eyebrow on the rise. "If I may continue."

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Foley said quickly but sincerely.

"Agents Doggett and Foley frequently specialize in cases involving the paranormal. I have been the immediate supervisor of their department for quite some time. With all due respect to you, Sentinel Ellison, your senses are not the most unusual thing we've seen. That's one reason the Director requested our presence here. We won't get in your way, either by doubting or gawking. Secondly, we want to stop this man and his group before he makes good on his plans for the next bombing. Without a doubt, the best opportunity to do this lies with Major Crime and you." He looked back towards Simon Banks. "Your reputation precedes you. You have an enviable solve rate against some extremely inventive perpetrators."

Simon actually blinked, a bit startled behind his own wirerims.

"We are also here to protect you," Doggett added quietly to Jim and Blair. "We have no reason to suspect any ... rival agencies might be taking an interest in your skills. However, given the events of the day, someone might be inclined to seize the element of distraction."

Jim's eyes narrowed and he scanned each man in turn. He could sense nothing duplicitous, nothing underhanded, nothing hostile. Beside him, Blair was scanning just as hard - how, Jim couldn't exactly tell, but he could feel it.

Jim also felt the moment when Blair relaxed, so he did, too. Mostly.

"Do you know of a specific threat or is that a general statement, Agent Doggett?" Simon asked somberly.

"It's our educated guess based on known players in the intelligence community," Skinner replied. "We have with us a tape recording and voiceprint analysis of Gary Jackson's voice. Am I correct in assuming, Detective Ellison, that as a sentinel you can accurately compare the two and it will be considered evidentiary?"

"We'll have Forensics do a digital voiceprint analysis of the caller to back me up for court, but yes, I can," Jim admitted with rather more ease than he'd ever anticipated given his history with federal agents.

But he'd made his decision and felt Blair's agreement. These were honorable men.

"We'll take you at your word, AD Skinner. We have a potential suspect and it's unknown at this time whether it's the man in this picture. Sensory evidence suggests that one of the survivors is linked to the perpetrators. He's still trapped but Search and Rescue is working on it..."

***

Jim was given enough warning that he and Blair were on-scene when the suspect was finally pulled out of the rubble; still alive, unconscious, on a backboard with a cervical collar in place. His color was good and he was breathing easily, and he was not the young man in the picture, not that Jim had expected him to be. This man was older, the age of Kincaid senior and his army of thugs. Jim didn't recognize him, though.

"Get him in the ambulance fast," Jim ordered once the man was placed on a gurney. Blair at his side, along with three uniforms, Jim didn't relax until the man was in the back of the ambulance. "Give me two minutes to check him out," he requested of the paramedics, who looked at each other and nodded.

"Don't take too long."

"Bag his hands," Jim directed quickly, already smelling the residue of C4. The paramedics, accustomed to forensics, obeyed without question. "His clothing is evidence," Jim informed them. "A CSI will meet you at the ER, so don't throw anything away. Bag it all." Patting his gloved hands down the man's side, he emptied pockets and checked for lumps ... removing a small caliber handgun from an ankle holster, a knife from one pocket, a garrote from another ... and a screwdriver. And several wire nuts.

Jim bagged it all, including the fifty-two dollars the guy had in cash and a telephone number written on a scrap piece of paper. No ID, but he hadn't expected any. When he was finished, he made another deeper, less rapid pass over the insensate man while Blair touched his back, rubbing lightly to give him another focus.

"No skull or neck fractures. Pretty big lump on the side of his head, though. He's got some cracked ribs and some internal bleeding - it's slow, probably his spleen. You know about his arm and fingers-" Those breaks were painfully obvious. "Dislocated left hip, fractured left femur and ankle ... and I'm done, thanks. An officer will ride with you to the emergency room."

"Ouch," Blair said as they started to step out of the ambulance. Despite his unwillingness to feel sympathy for the suspect, the injuries sounded awful.

"Yeah, they'll probably have to take him to surgery," one of the paramedics offered. "Thanks, Sentinel Ellison. Any time you get tired of the PD, give us a call," he added as the uniform, Vincente, moved to take their place.

"Find your own sentinel," Vincente groused good-naturedly. An amused Blair smiled while Jim issued a few last-minute instructions; then they left to report to Banks, Tracy, and Skinner.

***

Two hours later, Jim and Blair were looking through mug shots of known or suspected Kincaid sympathizers.

Vincente reported from Cascade General that the suspect had indeed been taken almost directly to surgery and hadn't yet regained consciousness, but his condition was deemed emergent enough to warrant the risk. Between the spleen and the leg, he'd be there a while and they wouldn't be getting his fingerprints for comparison any time soon.

Jim and Blair had taken advantage of a brief lull to duck into the PD's locker room for a quick shower and change of clothes.

Simon had broken out the good coffee and was working steadily on a report for the chief, who'd already given a short statement to the press, assuring the public that the investigation was well underway. The chief had appeared with the head of Cascade's FBI field office, who'd looked every inch the administrator he was as he'd echoed the chief's words.

"So, that's where he is," Kareem Tracy had noted, there briefly to update Simon on the forensics analysis of the explosives.

"That's good enough for him," Axel Foley had sneered at the TV.

Skinner had spoken to the Director who'd spoken to the President - a chain of command that wasn't exactly lost on the Cascadians.

Jim had confirmed the caller was indeed Gary Jackson. The transcript had been released to the press - the speaker unnamed other than as a person who 'allegedly claimed responsibility'. Major Crime and the trio of DC feds were keeping Jackson's identification strictly 'need to know', strongly suspecting he was still in the area waiting for word on his missing man, thus their efforts to ID him.

The President of the United States had released his own statement about Cascade's bombings, which began with the usual 'we are saddened by these events' but ended with a surprisingly passionate diatribe against the bigotry, misogyny, and sheer hatred in 'this so called patriot's words'.

This was a theme the media had pounced on with enthusiasm, and so far, to Blair's grateful wonder, there'd been no anti-sentinel sentiments expressed.

He was quite aware that if they failed to deliver the perps, those sentiments would change.

The feds were also looking - familiarizing themselves with the files on suspected Kincaid sympathizers and those remnants of the original Patriots who'd somehow managed to avoid prosecution. It was necessary but tedious work, like what Blair and Jim were doing, but Foley and Doggett had been keeping them all entertained with their sarcastic byplay. Doggett rarely spoke, but when he did, he needled Foley skillfully, while the younger agent hammed up his flamboyant reactions, a classic class clown.

Both, in different ways, were oddly restful to Blair, soothing the worst of his jangling nerves: Foley, because he was enjoying his life; and Doggett, because there was a depth in him not unlike Jim's. John Doggett had that same kind of survivor's calm, the bedrock strength to keep going despite horrible loss - Blair could feel it in him, the strength and the loss.

Aware the mugshots were beginning to blur, Blair pushed away from the table and rubbed his eyes, wishing he had his glasses and trying to remember if he had a spare set in his desk.

Closing his eyes and tipping his head back, Blair lifted his arms over his head in a luxurious stretch. He could feel Jim's eyes on him and hid a grin. Part of him was still stunned that he'd been right about the suspect now in surgery, merely on the basis of the emotions he'd picked up ... and Jim had backed him without question.

'Sensory evidence', indeed.

He didn't know what to think - all he could apparently do was feel ridiculously happy about Jim's faith in him.

His stomach growled audibly, and Blair gave everybody an apologetic shrug. He truly didn't feel hungry, but it was possible that the gnawing ache in his chest and stomach indicated a need to eat.

It occurred to Blair that with his metabolism, Jim had to be hungry, too.

"Running on empty, Chief?"

"We haven't eaten all day," he pointed out to Jim's inquiry. "We were gonna have breakfast at that diner in Sequim, remember? Simon, you know the one."

"Oh, yeah. Good food."

"Somebody say food?" Henri appeared at the door of the conference room where they were working. Rafe was right behind him, both bearing still-warm Wonderburger bags. "Figured you guys had to be hungry by now." He looked at Foley doubtfully. "Hey man, do you feds eat real food?"

"Give me that," Foley said disgustedly, snatching two bags and handing Doggett one. "Man, I'm from Chicago."

"I thought you were from LA?" Blair teased, having already heard from Foley of the man's rather unusual route to the FBI. "Thanks, guys. You are my heroes," he added as Rafe handed him and Jim each a sack.

"Yes, thank you, detectives, and answer a question for me. Have you slept in the last twenty-four hours?" Simon asked after taking his own bag, his eyes sharp on his men's tired faces.

"Uh, well, you know, we broke the Erskine case and were waiting on the warrant and since Hairboy brought it we went ahead and-"

"That would be no. Go home. Go to bed. Sleep at least four hours but preferably six. Then come back. And don't argue."

"Yes, Sir, we just need to-"

"Now, Detectives."

"Yes, Sir. Bye, guys." Rafe set down the rest of the bags and hauled Brown out by one arm before his partner could say anything more. "The Captain said now, H...."

"Effective technique, Captain Banks," Skinner remarked with an actual grin. Simon easily returned it.

"Yeah, he should like it, it's his," Foley said to Jim and Blair, not quietly enough. Skinner cleared his throat meaningfully, and Foley busily concentrated on his Wonderburger sack, missing the amused gleam in everyone else's eyes, including his boss.

Once their immediate hunger had been satisfied, Jim gave Skinner a wry shrug.

"We're supposed to be fishing."

"Good out here?"

"Oh, yeah. Trout-" Blair held his hands apart to illustrate, and Jim could tell by the gleam in Skinner's eye that the big fed liked to fish, too.

He'd caught Skinner watching Blair stretch earlier. There'd been a gleam in Skinner's dark eyes then, too - but one of simple admiration, only. Nothing lascivious had leaked from the man, and Jim had been paying attention ... but it was hardly the kind of look one straight man gives another.

This surprised Jim all over again. It made him wonder if the big fed had a lover, and if he did, what would the lover of such a man be like?

"Can't you eat a little more, baby?" He leaned over and whispered in Blair's ear, not liking how poorly Blair had eaten. "I know you're not crazy about Wonderburger..."

"It's not- I'm just-"

"I know, you're stressing and you're not hungry. Come on, let's get up and walk around a minute, get your glasses ... get you something else out of the machine? Juice, maybe?"

Blair sighed in exasperation.

"Yes, right, fine, good idea, and okay, maybe. And you-"

"And I am your thoughtful sentinel who could also use something else to look at for a few minutes."

"Oh, well, sure, Jim, why didn't you say so?"

Jim shepherded them out and Foley waited until the door had closed behind them before he looked over and Skinner and smirked.

"He's good."

Skinner thought of his green-eyed, high maintenance younger lover and just smirked back.

***

Blair was the one who found the matching face. He got up and shut the door before pointing him out to the other men.

"I think this is him. David Teasdale, age 49. Last known address, 7218 County Line Road, Cascade."

Neither known nor suspected of being a Sunrise Patriot, the man had a prior conviction from a race-related assault he'd committed a few years previously - Blair's idea, to search those books, too.

"You think Jackson's there?" Doggett asked.

"He could have an army there. It's a rural area that's only part of Cascade on paper," Jim cautioned them quietly. "Time for some recon."

"You have a map?" Doggett asked, and Joel handed over one of the rolled maps they kept in the conference room. Jim opened it and pointed to the area in question.

"Longitude and latitude ... Good." Skinner pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

"Turn off the machine, it's Skinner. Yes, I'm in Cascade ... yes, it's about that. I want a satellite image of this location-" he read off the coordinates. "E-mail it to me, I'll pull it up here. Yes, thermal imaging would be very helpful. No, I don't need to know how you did it or where you got it as long as it's reliable. Thanks."

He ended the call and looked up to find several surprised stares.

"They're faster than the Agency," he said to Doggett and Foley, who merely rolled their eyes.

***

Before they decamped to the site, Skinner met privately with the field agents who'd arrived from several western US offices to assist the Cascade PD.

An amused Jim reported to Simon and Blair privately that the AD was giving them the lecture of a lifetime.

 _"If anybody, and I mean **anybody** fires before a direct order from me, you and I will be discussing postings in Alaska. And for you agents **from** Alaska, you don't want to piss me off and find out what's worse."_

Between the PD and the feds, a good-sized force evacuated the neighbors and established a perimeter at some distance from the isolated house, managing to maintain stealth, for all that.

'Rural' wasn't the word for it, Blair decided after seeing the area. Homes were acres apart, and if Teasdale's particular part had been arable at one time, it wasn't now, being full of the scrubby trees, high grass, and wild brush that comes from long-term neglect. The small house itself wasn't in much better condition, possessing a paint-peeled tired sag that cried out for major renovations.

Four pickups in a varying state of repair and two older cars were parked in the front yard, which was littered with a variety of auto parts, bathroom fixtures, lawn chairs and empty beer cans.

"Damn. You might be a redneck if..." Axel Foley drawled.

Blair ducked his head to hide a grin as Jim established the best place to set up.

As soon as Jim picked a good spot and started listening, he confirmed the thermal imaging reports Skinner's satellite hackers had obtained. There were six men in the old farm house - thankfully, no women or children. The men were armed, hostile and anxious. Very anxious.

They had a warrant. Skinner had been speaking with Simon about getting a federal judge to sign off on it when Delores Fransein had dropped by to visit. Finally on her way to the lake, she'd insisted on stopping to check on Jim and Blair first.

After subjecting them both to an utterly embarrassing scene with her grateful - and large - family, the judge had cornered Banks and Skinner, squaring off with her hands on her hips and her head craned back to stare up at them.

 _Boys, this happened to my town and I'm gonna sign that warrant. You can have them after we catch 'em, AD Skinner, if they're there to be caught. Now, Simon Banks, I know I can trust you to use this in a just and constitutional manner."_

 _"Yes, Ma'am."_

 _"All right. Get moving, gentlemen."_

Hearing a distinctive voice, Jim established fairly quickly that the caller, Garrett Kincaid's son Gary Jackson, was indeed inside the house.

They had more than enough probable cause to satisfy the warrant, but Jim was hoping to hear something other than Jackson's 'official' statements that would actually connect the man with the bombing itself, or at least to the suspect retrieved from the rubble.

Claiming responsibility wasn't necessarily the same thing as actually being responsible. Before their forces were committed to what was sure to become a firefight, Jim wanted to be certain.

He looked his team over with a silent sigh. Blair was right beside him, of course - when had Blair ever allowed himself any other place? Jim knew better than to even suggest he hang back.

Simon, Joel, Megan, Johansen, Mercer and Dills were representing Major Crime. Rafe and Brown would be furious about being left out. SWAT and Homicide had personnel there as well as Gangs, and Kareem Tracy was standing by with the bomb squad in case the house was rigged to blow.

Skinner, Doggett, and Foley had also delegated themselves to the point team. Everyone was dressed in kevlar vests with identifying windbreakers and caps - the feds plainly willing and able to do whatever was necessary.

The sight reminded Jim they'd learned earlier that the local field office had lost three agents, two techs, and a clerical aide in the bombing.

The casualty count was not yet complete, but the confirmed death toll currently stood at twenty-two, which was more than they'd expected given the timing. Four people were believed killed inside the DEA's offices, ten from the sheriff's department, and two had worked for building services. Retrieval efforts were still ongoing ... and the loss of those lives to scum like Jackson's 'patriots' made Jim furious.

"Let it go, man," Blair murmured softly. "Don't let your anger take you out of the game, remember?"

"That's- really irritating advice."

"Tell me about it."

They exchanged a grin, then Jim heard a phone ringing inside the farmhouse.

Jim tilted his head, and Blair leaned into him, getting Simon's attention with a tiny wave.

He and Jim still hadn't had a chance to discuss whatever weird shit was going on with him, and it was getting stronger than ever. He could feel the ready anticipation from the assorted lawmen, as well as the nervous, almost fearful anger that practically radiated from most of the bad guys.

From all but one, in fact.

That _one_ \- Blair realized he'd sensed those types of feelings before, from David Lash and Warren Chapel; intensity of purpose mixed with fervid madness. If what he felt was Gary Jackson's mind, and Blair was certain somehow that it was, then Kareem Tracy was right, and the guy was _seriously_ whack, as in deranged. Sociopathic.

As unpleasant as that was to _know_ , Blair had to admit this emotional radar stuff wasn't really bothering him, otherwise. It was - like being nudged by a demanding housecat, hard enough to get his attention but still, relatively gentle... not at all like the immediate trauma of the explosion itself. This was more like simply noticing whether or not somebody's eyes were blue - new facts to assimilate about the people around him.

He wondered if it would still feel that way if he didn't have Jim so near, and promised himself to consider it later.

"Captain," Jim called softly. "They just got tipped off that Teasdale is out of surgery. They're getting ready to move."

"Understood."

Several things happened at once. Armor plated vehicles rolled in to blockade the road in front of the property, while the rest of the perimeter guardians faded back into the surrounding trees, making sure they were in defensible positions. Utilities were remotely cut off to the house, and the siege began.

Simon handed the bullhorn to Skinner.

"Would you do the honors, Sir?"

It was, Blair thought, a wise move on Simon's part if there was going to be any chance at all of resolving this peacefully.

Unfortunately, he didn't think it was going to work. Jackson was going to go off whether he heard Simon's voice or not.

"Hearing, Jim."

"On it, Chief."

 **"Gary Jackson and associates. This is the FBI. You are surrounded. Throw out your weapons and come out with your hands up."**

"The traditional lines, but well delivered," a thoughtful Foley had time to say before Jim shouted "Take cover!" Everyone dropped behind kevlar-coated riot shields as the sound of glass breaking heralded a shitload of shooting. They'd anticipated this, and were willing to let Jackson's men waste the ammo.

"Bloody fucking hell!" Jim heard Megan curse from Blair's other side.

He'd been glad she was there, knowing how protective she was of her Sandy.

"Conner, you hit?" He yelled, and she shook her head.

"Just missed me, mate. Vented my bloody jacket, though," she replied calmly, turning just enough for him to see the hole in the side of her windbreaker.

Apparently noticing there was no return fire, Jackson's men let their efforts die off. Skinner lifted one eyebrow and lifted the bullhorn again, waiting for silence before speaking again.

 **"I repeat-"**

To no one's surprise, this was greeted by a second volley. With unearthly patience, the assistant director waited it out.

 **"I repeat. This is the FBI and the Cascade Police Department. You are surrounded. Throw out your weapons and come out with your hands up."**

This earned a third barrage of fire that lasted longer than the first two. Skinner handed Banks the bullhorn with a rueful shrug, and they went back to waiting.

It wasn't particularly easy to crouch there listening as the bullets flew; either whining overhead, the occasional dull thud when a shot landed on a barricade or the sharp ping when a vehicle was struck.

Jim took the opportunity to fine-tune his hearing and worried briefly about ricochets. There wasn't a lot he could do about those beyond what he was doing - which was keeping Blair crammed between him and the barrier before them, holding his partner's head down. Blair accepted this more gracefully than Jim expected, and Jim realized Blair was trying not to add to _his_ stress.

And he was stressing. He wished Blair was miles away, or at the rear with Tracy, instead of right here at the front with him. Hell, he wished they'd left for Sequim last night ... of course, they would have been back here by now anyway, and be right where they were.

At least they'd have missed having a ringside seat to the bombing itself. Jim could still hear it sometimes; feel those enormous noises reverberating through his sensitive ears. Blair's constant presence made the difference, allowing him to hit the reset button, so to speak; the familiar and well-loved sounds that made up his guide's living body grounding him all day.

Blair gave him something else to track on that wasn't a memory. He suspected he would have zoned or spiked for sure, but _all_ his senses had been calmer than he could ever recall, even despite their workout. Sharp, balanced, easily managed and subliminally online in an autonomic way that made using them effortless ... No, he couldn't have made it through this day without having Blair beside him, and that's just the way it was.

Blair made the difference.

And Blair wouldn't be who _he_ was if he hadn't stayed right at Jim's side.

"Sandy, remind me to finish that discussion we were having about gun control legislation," Megan remarked as the number of gunshots finally began to die down.

Blair snickered but didn't reply, leaning into Jim with that solid strength Jim also appreciated.

"I'm hearing more single shot weapons now. Maybe they're running out of ammo for the automatics," Jim noted quietly to Simon, who was at his left ... and where else would Simon be, Jim asked himself wryly. He gave his friend a grin, glad when those deep brown eyes relaxed a little.

"That would be nice, Detective."

"Do you think the place is rigged? Can you smell anything?" Joel asked from Simon's other side as the shots continued to peter out. Beyond him, the junior feds flanked the senior, and were also listening with interest for his reply.

Jim was a little startled to realize anyone had noticed he'd automatically picked a spot that was downwind of the house.

"I smell C4 but it's hard to say if I'm smelling trace amounts on the men who handled the explosives or if what I'm smelling is in quantity and well-wrapped," he admitted.

"Does it smell different?" Blair's voice murmured from around Jim's chest. "'New' C4 compared to C4 that's been exposed to air for a while - is there a difference in the odor?"

Jim thought about it.

"You smelled it on Teasdale this morning. Isolate that scent ... now, you've smelled it in quantity, new, wrapped tight ... you've seen it, you've worked with it, held it in your hands..."

Almost hypnotized by that low, gentle tone, Jim recalled an occasion when he'd prepared and planted C4 as a Ranger. Even though his senses hadn't been online then; just like with the memory of hearing Jack's phone call on the answering machine, he found he had a complete sense memory of it, so vivid he could be doing it right now.

Comparing the two, his eyes cleared. He focused on Blair and pretended not to hear Simon whisper to Skinner "Now, _that's_ what a guide does."

"You're right, buddy. There is a difference. This is the same thing I smelled on Teasdale."

"There are other explosives," Skinner commented, his expression thoughtful.

"I'm familiar with them, Sir."

Skinner nodded before a voice started yelling from inside the house.

 _"I'm coming out! Don't shoot!"_

 _"The hell you are, soldier!"_ Jim heard another voice say, and felt Blair flinch before the subsequent gunshot. Only Jim heard the sound of a body hitting the floor, the rich smell of blood replacing cordite.

"Jackson will shoot them all, Jim," Blair said tensely. "He's not sane. He won't let them leave him. He's- like Lash."

Blair had hardly finished before the gunfire started anew, but this time it stayed within the house. A side door burst open and two men staggered out, bleeding, unarmed, and clearly fleeing. Someone was still alive inside, though, moving through the house and hard on their heels.

"He's coming, Jim," Blair said so softly even Jim could barely hear it.

"Shit." Jim took up the sniper rifle resting beside him, he and Blair exchanging positions like they'd rehearsed it. Kneeling to sight down the barrel, Jim felt Blair behind him, one hand on his low back.

 _"Stop! Stop! That's an order! Fucking traitors! You'll be next!"_

Jim could see the man - Jackson - through the darkened doorway, sight zeroing in on his position inside the house. Jackson was limping and bleeding, too, one arm hanging uselessly at his side. The gun in his other hand made it clear he was still a deadly threat.

"Warn him off, Captain," Jim said grimly, getting ready to take the shot.

 **"Jackson, back off! Put down your weapon and step outside!"** Simon ordered harshly through the bullhorn, understanding at once what was going on. **"Jackson, this is Simon Banks of the Cascade PD. We have you in our sights, put down your weapon or we will shoot you."**

"He's going for it. He's lifting the gun," and they could all see Jackson now, aiming at his men's backs while they struggled to get out of the line of fire, stumbling for the side of a vehicle ... not the side facing the house, either, Jim noted idly, conscious mind slipping aside as the warrior took his place.

"Take the shot, Detective," Simon said quietly.

"I'm taking the shot," he confirmed, and did; his sentinel sight following the speeding projectile until it buried itself in Jackson's chest. The man fell backwards inside the house, hitting the floor with a wet thump and a rough clatter as his handgun dropped from his hand. "He's down," Jim said, tilting his head. "He's dead."

"Who else is in the house?"

"No one alive," Jim said darkly, taking a deep breath as Blair petted him unobtrusively.

"Then let's move in. Ellison, you and Sandburg stay here and take a few moments." The SWAT captain stepped up and took possession of the rifle, as per procedure, while Simon turned to address the others. "The rest of you, move in. Connor, you, Mercer, and Johansen take the special agents here and arrest those two clowns. EMS is standing by. Joel, I'd like you, Dills, and Assistant Director Skinner to come with me to inspect the scene. Get Tracy and his guys in there with Forensics and see what they can identify."

Yessirs sounded all around as people started moving, the immediate area clearing with alacrity as people started jumping to Simon's orders. As soon as Jim and Blair were alone, Jim drew him a few feet into the trees and leaned their heads together.

"You okay?" Blair asked to Jim's shrug.

"More or less. It's over, right?"

"In just under twelve hours, too. Must be a record." Blair sighed. "You had no choice. He was warned."

"I know," Jim started to say, then he and Blair lifted their heads simultaneously.

"Somebody's out there," Blair said to Jim's nod. From some distance further in the trees, he heard a series of muffled blows and an aborted yelp before he started hearing bodies hit the ground. "Stay behind me," he told Blair, gratified when Blair instantly complied.

Jim approached the source of the sounds obliquely, eyebrows lifting when he found two unconscious men lying in a clearing, hands and feet cuffed and hogtied.

A third man was standing in the lengthening shadows of the trees, gloved hands held out to his sides.

"Just doing you a little favor, sentinel. These jokers were a little too interested in you and your guide. Tell Walt he owes me, and try to stay out of trouble," a husky voice rasped and the man slipped away.

Blair stuck out his foot and shoved one unconscious man onto his side, somehow not at all surprised to discover Lee Brackett.

"Well, well. Look who it is, Jim."

"Shit," Jim said again, with considerably more disgust. "You know, lucky for him I'm in a good mood."

Doggett called out to them. Following Blair's answered shout, he appeared by their side and looked down with a frown.

"You do this?"

"Another guy. Tall, dark brown hair, green eyes, prosthetic left arm. Said 'tell Walt he owes me'." Jim poked at Brackett with the toe of his own shoe. "I owe him, too, whoever he is. This guy's supposed to be in the federal pen."

Doggett laughed softly and wondered how Skinner was going to react.

***

Midnight found them home at last, sitting on the sofa together and watching an entirely unnecessary fire burn in the fireplace.

"Long day," Jim noted - equally unnecessarily - hiding a grin in Blair's hair when Blair snorted. Arms tightening around that firm body, Jim let himself relax, breathing in his lover's scent.

"It's good to be home, isn't it?" He added in an unsubtle prod. "You wanna talk about it, Chief?"

"Which it, Jim? The bombing, the killings, the survivors, our brush with death, Merl Halstead, Teasdale, Jackson, the FBI, our 'flawlessly executed example of inter-agency cooperation' or Brackett?" Blair smiled into the side of Jim's neck. "Those its, or the 'psychic friends' it?"

"It _has_ been a long day," Jim muttered, a bit startled at how long the list was when Blair totted it up like that.

"Eh, just a typical day, right?" Blair teased. "I vote we go to bed and think about it tomorrow."

An evil grin crossed Jim's face and he got to his feet, bending down and sweeping Blair up into his arms. It was a move that would have been a lot more effective if he hadn't had to grunt.

Blair was snickering when Jim spoke.

"Whatever you say, Scarlett. Tomorrow is another day," he said as he started carrying his laughing partner to the stairs.

"Put me down, Rhett, before you fuck up your knee even worse," Blair urged so amusedly Jim had to pause to kiss him silly, loving the dazzled look he left in those blue eyes when he lifted his head.

"'As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again'," Jim quoted softly, rewarded when Blair gave him a bright, happy smile.

"Damn right you won't."

Executing a squirming wiggle, Blair freed himself to kneel at Jim's feet, hands already on Jim's fly.

"And neither will I," Blair stated and set to work with joy.

End 18 July 05


End file.
